Huilen's Story
by persephonesfolly
Summary: Forced to care for the monster who slaughtered her sister and cursed against her will to live the life of a vampire. This is Huilen's untold story.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

I am Huilen. I am Mapuche. It defines me, yet I am something more as well, as alien to my people as the white skinned conquistadors who came to our lands so long ago with their guns and and diseases and missionaries.

I am adrift, separated from the mapu, the land which sustains my people. I am among strangers of the wekufu. Their way is death and destruction. It is my way as well, and I no longer know where to turn to find my place in the world. Their words and their eyes confuse me. They make me wonder if there is not another way to live beyond the way of the wekufu. I long for the certainties of home, yet I feel trapped here.

I am Mapuche. This is my story.

o-o-o

"Huilen! Huilen!"

I turned from my task of fixing the thatched roof, glad of an excuse to drop the rough grass fibers, and turned to my sister. Pire burst through the underbrush and rushed to my side, grabbing my arm.

She was lovely, my sister. She had skin like the snow on the far mountains or the glow of the moon in the night sky. Her brown eyes laughed at me, and she shrugged her cloak off her shoulders.

"I see you brought no fruit again," I chided, for her hands were empty. Mama would not be pleased.

"I'm sorry, Huilen."

Pire was instantly remorseful, and dropped her head to my shoulder as she had in our childhood when I'd carried her when she grew weary. I patted her hair, absent mindedly tugging the knot of her cloth headband to tighten it. It had worked itself loose, and Pire hadn't noticed.

"Hush, we'll go together to look for fruit once I've finished here," I told her.

Pire stepped back and realized the thatch I'd dropped was under her feet. Giggling, she bent to retrieve them and handed them over.

"Yes, let's forage together," she agreed. "I want to tell you something, a secret."

"Oh?"

I affected indifference as I turned my attention back to patching up the hole in our hut's roof. The ruka's steeply pitched thatch angled down from the apex nearly to the ground. Some animal had pulled a section off, mistaking it for a meal.

Pire was like a butterfly, delicate and beautiful. Like them, she tended to flit from task to task often forgetting to complete the one before her attention wandered to something new. Whatever her secret was, it had distracted her from gathering the fruit for the day.

"I saw someone today." Pire paused and I could feel her eyes on me, waiting for a response.

"Who was it?" The thatch was being particularly difficult. I shoved it into place and reached around to tie it to the lattice of poles beneath.

"A stranger."

My hands froze. Strangers had come to the village before. Usually it was men with guns in their hands in search of gold in the mountains, or missionaries who spoke of a foreign 'God'. All either left after a few years or died off. Our village was high up in the foothills and people came through seeking passage to the mountains higher up. They were not always kind, these Spaniards. My heart thrilled with fear for Pire.

"What stranger?" I asked flatly. It would not do to show my fear. Pire reacted badly to harsh words. She was a gentle child, and much younger than I.

"He is beautiful," Pire said, eyes dreamy and focused on the memory of the man.

"His name is Joham," she went on. "He is like none of the men in our village. His skin is so fair that it glows, and his eyes…they are the eyes of a god."

I feared where this was leading.

"Pire," I pulled my hands from the thatch and grasped her shoulders. "You must not have anything to do with this man. Do you not remember the time of sickness grandmother told us about? Disease follows the strangers. Half our people died."

The story was true, but it happened long ago. Still, if it frightened Pire into forsaking the stranger, it was worth retelling.

Shocked, Pire stammered, "but…but he is not like that. He is nothing like the strangers who pass through our land. He is like an angel, a dark beautiful angel."

I dropped my hands and stepped back. Now she was using the words of the white missionaries to describe him. I wondered if the man was one of them. Like the Spaniards they did not last too long in the forest. They taught the children then moved on."

"Just be careful," I warned her. "He is not Mapuche. He is not of our land. You shouldn't go with such a man."

Pire gave me an odd look. "I do not think he is a man at all," she told me, and went inside the hut, our plan to harvest fruit together forgotten.

o-o-o

My sister grew apart from me. She would slip out in the night, disappear in the afternoon when she was supposed to be foraging. She neglected the pentukum, the visits of greeting to relatives, so I was forced to become werken, the messenger of my family. Mother and father had no boy children. Mother's last pregnancy lost her my baby brother and ended all hope of other children. Grandmother is machi, the shaman of our village, but even she could not drive out the evil spirit causing my mother's infertility. Mother was very sad for a long time afterward, so I was the one to raise Pire.

I could not have loved her any more if she'd been my own child rather than my sister. Our cousins were always around, but it was to me Pire would run for comfort in times of tears. It was my advice and approval she sought first. Slowly that began to change. It began when she told me of her stranger.

I was down by the river when I first saw them, the marks of violence on her body.

Pire went to bathe. I'd told mother I would stay to help, and Pire went on alone. However, mother's sister came to visit, and preferring her company to mine, mother shooed me out to go bathe as well. I went to our favorite bathing spot and there was Pire. She was perched on a rock, leaning down to splash water on her legs. She'd thrown off her cloak, dress, and sash and the bruises stood out shockingly against her pale skin.

Some were as black as the dark volcanic rock edging the river. Others were yellowing with age. She'd been beaten repeatedly.

"Pire!" I exclaimed. "Who has done this to you?"

She slipped off the rock and retreated hip deep into the water. I followed, not caring that my skirts became sodden. Pire brushed her hands over her body, splaying her fingers to conceal the marks, then sighed as she realized it was too late.

"He does not mean to harm me," she explained. "It is only that he is so strong and I am so weak."

I glared. "When a man loves a woman he does not harm her!"

"What would you know of it?"

Pire, my sweet, good-natured sister, snapped the words at me. "You are not married. You know nothing of what happens between a man and a woman. He loves me! He wants to be with me, not with someone like you!"

I froze. I knew that I was not beautiful like Pire. The men of the village did not seek me out for marriage. Instead they waited for Pire to reach marriageable age. I didn't mind. When I reached marriage age I was too busy caring for Pire to think of such things. We'd never spoken of it until now. I felt my face take on the expression we Mapuche use to strangers, those not of our land. My features became blank, expressionless, to hide my hurt.

Pire saw and her face turned from anger to sorrow. She threw herself into my arms.

"Forgive me! Forgive me! I did not mean it," she sobbed, hugging me fiercely.

For a moment I stood still, then my arms moved to embrace her. I could not resist my sister when she was penitent. I hugged her back and knew as I did so that my expression thawed.

"I worry about you," I whispered into her hair. "This man, this…"

"Angel," Pire supplied tearfully. "I call him my dark angel. He prefers it."

"Angel."

My lips curled as I formed the word, and I was glad Pire could not see me snarl. "No angel would beat a woman so. He is a spirit of the wekufu; he does not follow the admapu."

Pire held me tighter, burying her face in my cloak. "Perhaps the admapu is a lie."

I drew in a breath, shocked. The admapu was the way of things. It was the beliefs, customs, and traditions of our people. The admapu regulates our lives, helps us to maintain the balance between ngenechen and wekufu, good and evil. It is our link between past and future. For Pire to question the admapu…

"Perhaps he is a demon," I countered sharply. "The christians' demon. Or a lobisomem."

The lobisomem legends came to our people from other faraway villages. They were wolf spirits that took on the form of men and killed people.

"He is not!" Pire protested. "You don't understand." She raised her head. "I love him."

I saw only sincerity on her face and it broke my heart. Whoever or whatever was marking my sister had bewitched her. Try though I might, I could not convince her to stay away from him. I could not tell our parents either for Pire tearfully swore me to secrecy.

All nature speaks to the Mapuche. The coming of the seasons is heralded by changes in the world around us. The moon's movement in the sky tells us when to sow and when to reap. The call and flight of birds whisper of comings and goings. When the quilas flower bloomed, I knew in my heart that catastrophe approached, for the quilas flower is always the harbinger of evil.

Pire was lethargic during the day. She still left the ruka each night, ducking out from under its thatched eaves, and returning soon after, sad and out of sorts.

Father and mother noticed nothing. There was talk of a war council. As machi to the village, grandmother called on mother to assist her in seeking the spirits' guidance. Father sharpened his spear and went with the men to seek a black llama. If the war council met and agreement was reached to ally against an enemy village to the east, the llama would be needed for sacrifice.

Our cousins, even little Poma, not yet two years old, sensed the tension rising in the village and played quietly in the shadow of the rukas.

Pire watched over them, sitting on a tree stump and using a spindle to spin washed llama wool into thread for mother's loom. I came to sit beside her, pleased to notice her attention was drawn to our baby cousin. Perhaps the spell of her dark angel was waning if she could look so softly upon the child.

"Poma grows quickly," I observed.

It was true. Already she ran after her older brother and sisters without hesitation. I could remember when she'd just learned to walk, legs bowed and falling constantly.

"Not as quickly as the child that grows within me," Pire whispered, staring at the spindle.

I looked at her. Her hand remained steady on the snowy mass, constant in her spinning as she revolved the wool into a thin line of thread, so delicate, so breakable. Her eyes left her task to meet mine.

"I am with child, his child."

My heart grew cold. The child of a monster was still a monster. When it was no longer possible to hide the bulge in Pire's stomach, mother and father would demand to know who was responsible. Pire was incapable of lying to them directly. The story would come out. They would have to sacrifice Pire in order to kill the evil growing within her. Our grandmother was machi, a good shamaness, not kalku, an evil one. To keep herself and the village from falling into the way of the wekufu, Pire's child would be destroyed.

Pire knew it too. I could see it in her eyes.

"Help me?" she whispered.

How could I say no? We left the next night, traveling deep into the forest. Pire was determined to find her dark angel, to tell him of her condition. I was determined to find him too. I packed a stone macana, a mace that once belonged to grandfather, in my traveling bag. I would kill the dark angel and its spawn when it emerged, then take Pire home again. She would hate me for a time, but she would be safe. That was all that mattered to me. The evil would die and the balance would be restored. The admapu would prevail.

We never found her dark angel, and the supplies we packed ran out. The child in her belly grew apace. Too quickly the bulge became a mound. New bruises appeared on my sister's body, from the inside. The thing kicked at her. She bore it all with a smile.

My mace was used, but not on the dark angel. My aim was good, and the animals I clubbed with the macana became Pire's food. She was so hungry she could not bring herself to wait for me to cook the meat, devouring it raw and sucking the liquid from the flesh. I became more and more certain of my course. The monster inside Pire had to die.

"I will call him Nahuel," she said one evening by the fire.

She was staring into the flames, propped up against a log. Her hand was on her belly as it often was. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and blood was smeared on her mouth from the lizard I'd killed that afternoon.

"It's a good name," I said cautiously.

Nahuel meant jungle cat. Its vicious nature suited the thing inside Pire. I hid my thoughts as usual. Pire did not know what I planned for her child. She couldn't or she would fight to protect it.

"He will be strong and healthy like my dark angel," she said, gently caressing the form that moved within her mounded stomach. She could no longer walk, so great was her burden. I knew she suffered from its kicks, and the way it moved within restlessly like a snake just under the surface of the river.

I shuddered and turned away from the sight, pretending that we needed more ferns for our bedding. No amount of padding could ease Pire's pain, yet she refused to curse her dark angel, and spoke lovingly of her child.

I set my face to hide the rage growing within me.

When the birth came, it was horrific.

One afternoon Pire doubled over, shrieking, just as I was about to leave to hunt for more food. Her appetite had grown insatiable, more proof of the gluttonous nature of the monster inside her.

I ran to her. I'd witnessed births before, but this was like nothing I'd ever seen. The child would not come out the usual way. It thrashed within her, breaking Pire's ribs, one of which broke through her skin. She screamed with pain.

I stared in horror, then placed my hand hard on her belly, trying to shove the evil down and out of her body. It was like pressing against a boulder. Pire only screamed louder. It was too large to come out the usual way. Sweat poured down her face and body. My baby sister was in agony and there was nothing I could do to help. How I wished I'd apprenticed to my grandmother and learned of the herbs and spells to ease the hurt of childbirth. If only grandmother were here to perform the machitun healing ritual.

But there was nothing to be done. Pire began coughing up blood. The thing in her belly was breaking her from the inside out. All the while she cried out to me, begging me to take care of Nahuel, until at last I swore I would do it.

I would have sworn to cut my arm off at that point, anything to ease her mind.

I think Pire knew she was dying even before the arm emerged.

It punched through her stomach, spraying us both with blood. Another tiny hand joined it, rending and clawing its way up through Pire's skin, followed by a bloodstained head. It parted the skin of my sister's belly like a knife cuts through cloth, shoving back the edges so the layer of fat and red flesh showed along the edges.

My breath became pants of horror as I stared, transfixed by the sight. I did not want to see, but I could not look away. Pire's hand, which had reached out to grip mine, loosened in my grasp. A gurgling noise came from her throat as she slumped back, her spirit leaving her body in a rush of pain and horror.

Still the child, the monster, continued to surge up from the wreckage of my sister's body. I watched and hated it with my whole being, wanting, needing to kill it, but I'd promised Pire.

I let go of her limp hand and got to my knees by her hips. Reaching over, I skimmed my palms down the arms, which were thrashing angrily at its confinement. Averting my gaze from the gore spattered head, I felt my way down the thing's armpits until I reached its ribcage. I tried not to think about the warmth staining my hands as I lifted the child out of my sister and brought him to my chest.

Pire's blood smeared the bosom of my dress, transferred off the tiny body of evil onto me.

I was just bringing an arm under its bottom to support it when the pain came, sharp as a snake's bite, on my neck.

White hot agony coursed through me. I'd been bitten. I could feel a gout of blood trickling down the side of my throat. With a cry, I dropped the thing back onto my sister's body and staggered back, hand clasped to my neck.

I did not know such pain could exist. There was no part of me that it did not reach. No one could survive such a thing. I was going to die.

Continuing to stagger back I fell, hard. My only thought was to flee from the monster, the source and cause of my agony. My hands scored the earth as I dragged myself away from Pire's body and the evil thing that had destroyed her.

The forest was dark, a cool welcoming change from the bright fire of our campsite. I pulled myself under the canopy of trees, dragging my legs behind a clump of brush, trying desperately to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

From the campsite a mewling noise proved that the demon lived. Dried ferns from our bedding broke with a snap. I whimpered in fear, terror mixing with my agony.

It was coming to get me, to finish me off.

I closed my eyes and waited for the end.

To be continued…

**A/N: To help with unfamiliar Mapudugan words, here's a glossary:**

**Admapu - The guidelines for Mapuche life and morals. 'Ad' means customs, traditions, the way things should be. 'Mapu' means land.**

**Epew – Literally translated, it means 'almost seeing oneself'. The Epew are stories of the past, both historical events and legends, that reinforce the Mapuche view of the world.**

**Kalku – A shamaness who is evil, a sorceress.**

**Libisomem – A Portuguese term, not a Mapuche word, it refers to a werewolf, usually the seventh son of a family. Meyer erroneously attributed the Libisomem (which she spelled 'Libishomen') to the Mapuche as well as the Brazilians, but it's primarily a Brazilian/Portuguese legend. **

**Macana – A mace, a stick-like weapon with a bulbous end, made from stone or wood.**

**Machi – A shaman, usually a woman who mediates between the natural and spiritual worlds.**

**Machitun – The mapuche healing ritual conducted by the Machi (shamaness) consisting of diagnosis, expulsion, and spiritual revelation about the illness.**

**Mapuche – Literally translated, it means 'the people of the earth/land'. It is what the native Chileans call themselves.**

**Mapu – The land.**

**Mapudugan – The Mapuche native language, it can also refer to the 'language' of nature since the Mapuche believe that their language developed when they learned to decipher nature's messages to them.**

"**Mapu ta choyuei" – A phrase meaning 'we sprouted from the earth'.**

**Maqui – Fermented corn beer, a traditional Mapuche alcoholic beverage.**

**Ngenechen – The force of good, light, creation. **

**Ngulamtun – Traditional system of Mapuche education where the elders teach the young children the customs, morals, and beliefs of their people.**

**Pentukum – Ritualized visits by younger Mapuche to the homes of elder Mapuche in order to practice etiquette, speaking skills, and social behavior. Usually a child is sent as a messenger (werken) to a relative's home to deliver a speech of greeting.**

**Ruka – Traditional Mapuche home made of wood with a steeply pitched thatch roof.**

**Wekufu – The force of evil, destruction, and darkness. All misfortune in Mapuche life is attributed to the wekufu.**

**Werken – A family's messenger, sent as ambassador on a visit to a relative in order to accomplish a task and to practice etiquette and approved social behavior.**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

There is no mercy in the wekufu. I did not die that day, or the next. I felt only the fire burning its way through my body. I burned, yet there were no flames. The blistering, charring sensation came from deep inside me. For a long time I was aware only of the torture of it. I longed for death, but it did not come.

Eventually the pain eased. It was like the receding of the tide. Bit by bit the waves of agony retreated, the pain lessening infinitesimally with each surge. I set my mind on that image. My pain was as vast as the sea, yet waves retreat down the sand at their appointed time.

I'd been to the coast once before with my family to visit other Mapuche near Yaghuen territory. The sea was a bright, sparkling blanket, so large that you could not see across it. There was a lake nearby. It also contained water, yet its shores were boundaries; its water was not limitless. I willed my pain within the confines of the shore I remembered. The image comforted me.

When at last I woke fully, it lay beside me. The evil child, the servant of darkness, the wekufu-spawned monstrosity who'd slaughtered my sister was sleeping, curled up by my hip. It took all I had left of myself to keep my hands from reaching for my macana to club it to death. My promise to my sister restrained me.

Then came the hunger.

The thing beside me woke, opened its eyes and mewled plaintively. Even as I registered the sound I realized I was hearing much more than the child's cry. It was as if a veil between this world and the world the spirits saw had been rent. We Mapuche have always used the mapudugun, the language of nature with its sounds and visual clues, to decode messages and find our place in the balance of things. I could now hear, see, and smell so much more.

My senses opened up to the forest around me. I could see dust motes floating in the air, count the lacy filaments of pollen drifting by my face. The sun filtered through the trees, yet I did not need it to see further into the dark cavernous forest. All was crystal clear that should have been cloaked in shadow.

A snarl caught my attention from deeper in the forest. There was the scent of a large furred body, a spill of blood. A jungle cat had just caught its prey.

I wanted it.

I left the tiny mewling creature to its own hunger and ran. The nahuel, the cat, had no time to do more than scratch my shoulders when I pounced on it. My teeth seemed unnaturally strong as I used them to rend open the animal's throat and drink deeply from the big vein.

I waited for the sting from its claw marks, but it never came. It was only when the edge of my hunger began to subside that I could think about what I'd just done. I'd killed a panther and didn't have so much as a scratch to show for it.

Dropping the carcass, which felt as light as an armful of newly shorn llama wool, I stepped into a ray of sunlight and looked at myself. Beneath the bloodstains from the cat, my hands and arms sparkled in the light. My skin was still the olive tone of my people, but it was lighter now, more like Pire's color, and flecks of gold reflected the light.

It distracted me.

The other panther crashed into me. It was probably the mate of the one I'd killed.

I did not fall. Instead I turned, grappled with it, then crushed its neck with my bare hands.

From a distance, an insistent mewling sound caught my attention. The child was hungry.

I hesitated, then grasped the great cat by the loose skin at the back of its neck and ran back to the campground. I covered the ground so quickly now. Within a minute I was back by the child. I threw my prey down next to it. His eyes lit up at the scent of blood. With the strength of a baby many months older than he was, Nahuel rolled onto his belly and crawled over to the panther. Within seconds the child's face was buried in the steaming innards, its tiny hands rending the panther's skin to reach the bloody flesh beneath its fur.

"A nahuel for a Nahuel," I whispered. "Devour your namesake as you did my sister."

The babe paused at the sound of my voice and raised its head from its feast. It blinked at me perplexedly. Blood dripped from its mouth. There was a curiosity, an intelligence in those eyes far beyond its age. I froze and schooled my expression into the blankness we Mapuche reserve for strangers.

I would hide my true self from this child. My thoughts and my feelings would be my own and I would not show them as I would to my kin group.

I hated Nahuel, yet I'd promised to watch over him. I would fulfill that duty. When Pire's spirit and the spirits of our ancestors visited me in Peuma, in dreams, perhaps she would counsel me and give me messages of strength, for I did not know if I could survive the task she'd given me.

o-o-o

I received no dream messages from the spirits. I no longer slept, so I no longer dreamed. Cut off from this vital link to my ancestors, I looked to mapudugan, the language of nature, for answers. But though the morning mists signaled the rising of the nature spirits, they had nothing to say to me. I saw so much more, sensed everything going on in the forest, but the spirit messages were indecipherable. I knew because of what grandmother taught me that mountain mist signals the awakening of spirits, off to begin their daily activities just as we Mapuche rose with the sun in the morning to start our day.

The mist always seemed ethereal and mysterious, in keeping with the nature of spirits. With my new eyes I could see now that mist was just drops of water suspended in the air. The whispering of the forest revealed itself to be wind or small insects burrowing under tree bark.

I burned my sister's body and buried her ashes by the riverbank where bright yellow flowers pushed their way up through charcoal colored rocks. One of the far mountains once spat fire and rock all over the land when the wekufu held sway and the balance between good and evil had tipped toward evil. There were still places on the mountain where muddy water boiled up, a constant reminder that the wekufu lives on.

With Nahuel on my hip I stared down at the rock I'd placed over my sister's remains. I would bring him here every year at the time of her death, and tell him of Pire, the mother that he'd killed. I would not neglect the Ngulamtun, the constant guidance and oral teaching of Mapuche children. Nahuel would learn of Mapuche ways as I, mother, father, and grandmother taught Pire when she was a child.

Nahuel played with my hair, which came loose from its braid when I was moving the rock. My hair was now soft and lustrous. I was no longer the Huelin I'd been.

My first human victim was a Spaniard. A day had passed since the jungle cat, and when I caught the scent of the foreigners it was as if they were calling to something deep within me, like a great thirst which was only realized after a long dry hike when one comes upon a mountain spring.

I left Nahuel behind and I ran.

The Spaniard tried to fire his musket at me. Foolish man. The metal ball bounced off my chest. I knew from my experience with the great cat that I was now invincible.

The Spaniard died with a gasp as I ripped into his throat. His companions tried firing at me. I raised my head from my intoxicating feast and bared my teeth at them in a snarl.

Their expressions turned from fright to horror.

"Los ojos!" they cried as they scattered and ran.

That was when I realized that my hair and skin weren't the only things that had changed about me.

I dropped the first human and pounced on another, pulling his head back by his hair to expose the vulnerable flesh of his throat, and drank deeply.

The second Spaniard had a round timepiece in his pocket. I'd seen such things before on the missionaries who came through our village to teach us their language and stories about their God. I opened the pocket watch and gazed at my reflection in the glass face.

My eyes were bright red.

Dropping the watch, I staggered back from the corpse. Red was the color of the blood I now craved. I'd been marked by the wekufu for all to see. I was a blood drinker.

My stomach was full of it, and the taste of it lingered like honey in the sweet residue on my tongue. It was not until I tasted human blood that I realized what it was that I craved. The blood of the great cat was like water compared to maqui. At the time of feasting, water will slake one's thirst, but it is nothing compared to the sweet flavor of Mapuche corn beer brewed to perfection for the time of celebration. Who would drink water at a feast when maqui was so readily available?

I captured another Spaniard and brought him back to Nahuel to drink. The man screamed and cried out for his God and Maria, the God's mother. I snapped his neck and offered him to Pire's son, who latched onto the vein as if it were milk from her breast. His chubby hands kneaded the sides of the man's neck as a normal baby would its mother's bosom as it suckled.

I averted my gaze and tried not to listen to the sounds the child made while eating. A fierce joy filled me when I killed the Spaniard for Nahuel. How dared the man call out to Maria? I knew the missionaries' story of the girl who birthed a God. That girl had lived. That God was good. I could not help but compare Pire's lot with the Christians' Maria.

Nahuel was no savior. He was a killer, born to rend and destroy. He was of the Wekufu, and because of him, so was I.

o-o-o

The remaining Spaniards lasted for a time. The scent of their blood called to me. I picked them off by ones and twos. From the conversations I overheard as I raced toward them, they were gold hunters, seeking treasure hidden deep within the mountains. Some continued on that path, hoping to outrun me. Others tried to slip past to return back the way they'd come.

When my thirst was slaked, I'd herd them back toward the mountains and back into Mapuche territory. Nahuel was growing fast and needed food. Eventually I carried him on my back as I hunted the survivors.

Then there were no more Spaniards, only Mapuche. We had to leave.

I started hunting Yaghuen, draining their bodies and throwing them into the sea. Nahuel followed my example, bringing down a young woman searching for clams at low tide. He was a beautiful child, and he enchanted her long enough to allow him near even though he was not dressed as a Yaghuen.

I'd converted some of the clothes Pire brought with her to fit her son. Soon I would have to weave more or raid villages at laundry time to get bigger garments more suited for a boy. I dreaded getting near other Mapuche. When the blood lust came upon me I could not control myself. I became like a ravening beast.

There were few Yaghuen left. Much as I hungered, I could not kill the remainder of these people who lived by the sea and worshipped other gods. The balance of nature must be maintained. Reluctantly I turned my path away from the coast.

Nahuel and I started hunting the Mapuche of the far mountains. Animal blood did not satisfy. We had to hunt to live. That is what I told myself. Nahuel grew almost as fast at killing as I. I feared that as he grew bigger he would one day surpass me, and then who would control the evil within him? I could barely control myself.

If he outstripped me, killed me and left, who would teach him the way of the admapu?

"What is my name?" he asked one day.

Three years had passed since Pire died. Her son was now the size of a boy half way to adulthood. He was standing ankle deep in the river, watching the fish swim by his feet.

"What do you mean?" I hedged.

He looked at me. "In the villages we hunt, the older ones call the younger ones by name. I know you are my Aunt Huelin, but who am I?"

In three years I had never called the child by his name. When I had something to say, I said it. I never had to call to him to come to me, for we were always together from the time he was big enough to carry on my back.

"Nahuel," I told him. "Your mother called you Nahuel."

His eyes clouded over a bit at the mention of Pire.

"Nahuel," he repeated in wonder. "Isn't that the big black cat with the sharp claws?"

I winced inwardly. He'd remembered his first meal. Sometimes out of curiosity he'd taste the food left behind by the people we killed. For a while I'd hoped that Pire's goodness within him would overshadow the evil of wekufu, that he'd learn to live solely on plants and animals, but he always returned to human blood.

"Yes. Your mother said you would be strong and beautiful."

I left out my opinion that the name also denoted cruelty, for cats like the great panther loved to play with their food.

Nahuel kicked at the water a bit, then came to sit by my side. He knew not to touch me. From the time he no longer needed to be carried there was no touching between us.

"Tell me again about my mother," Nahuel asked in a small voice.

He curled his arms around his legs and set his chin on his knees, staring out at the water. It was still daylight. The wind brushed its fingers through the grass, sighing that it was afternoon while the sun's angle spoke of hours more ascendancy to go before the moon rose to hold sway over the mapu.

Even so, I thought perhaps the sound of my voice would send him to sleep as my stories had when he was smaller. Nahuel still slept. It was a gift Pire left him. I did not ask if he dreamed. I did not wish to know, for it would give me yet another reason to envy him, this child of evil, with vestiges of humanity still left in him.

"Pire was the loveliest girl in the village," I began.

I'd already told him many times about his mother, her birth, childhood, and her death. I held nothing back that I could remember. He was interested in every detail, no matter how small.

I spoke to him too of the admapu, the way of things, and of the epew, the legends and history of the Mapuche. I had him memorize the Piams, those wise sayings all Mapuche children learn. He listened and understood, but it was the stories of Pire that he requested when night fell and the time for sleeping drew near.

The only time I ever felt close to Nahuel was when I looked into his eyes, so like Pire's, and told him of his mother. When memories of her flooded my mind, I could see bits of her in him. Though the images weren't as clear as the ones my wekufu cursed eyes now saw, they were a comfort to me.

At all other times I saw only Nahuel's father in him, that cursed dark angel who gave him his chin, cheekbones, and boyish grace.

We were nearing the fourth anniversary of Pire's death when it came to me. I'd hunted a pair of warriors, taking the larger one and leaving the other alive. I'd achieved restraint. The first year of my cursed existence I would have killed both.

Nahuel was better controlled too, and I allowed him to hunt apart from me, praising him when he took only what he needed. Mapuche do not take from mother earth more than they can use. It is our way of living in harmony with the mapu.

Our newly discovered restraint made me think it possible to visit my family, to see if grandmother still lived. Of course I could not let her see me, for one glance at my blood colored eyes and she would know that I'd turned to the wekufu.

All my life I'd heard stories, cautionary tales, of the kalku, the evil machi who followed the way of the wekufu rather than the ngenechen. It was the kalku who contaminated ancestral spirits who are lost or have no descendents to honor their memory.

I have seen no spirits since my transformation, and though the world is clearer now it is a barren and lonely place. The mysterious sounds and whispers of the land, the mapu, are mysterious no longer. The realm of the other world, the shadowy realm that co-exists with the tangible, is closed to me.

Grandmother would not understand. I will keep to the darkness and watch my family from afar. I would see her, but she would not see me. That was my plan.

**A/N: To help with unfamiliar Mapudugan words, here's a glossary:**

**Admapu - The guidelines for Mapuche life and morals. 'Ad' means customs, traditions, the way things should be. 'Mapu' means land.**

**Epew – Literally translated, it means 'almost seeing oneself'. The Epew are stories of the past, both historical events and legends, that reinforce the Mapuche view of the world.**

**Kalku – A shamaness who is evil, a sorceress.**

**Libisomem – A Portuguese term, not a Mapuche word, it refers to a werewolf, usually the seventh son of a family. Meyer erroneously attributed the Libisomem (which she spelled 'Libishomen') to the Mapuche as well as the Brazilians, but it's primarily a Brazilian/Portuguese legend. **

**Los Ojos – Spanish for 'the eyes'.**

**Macana – A mace, a stick-like weapon with a bulbous end, made from stone or wood.**

**Machi – A shaman, usually a woman who mediates between the natural and spiritual worlds.**

**Machitun – The mapuche healing ritual conducted by the Machi (shamaness) consisting of diagnosis, expulsion, and spiritual revelation about the illness.**

**Mapuche – Literally translated, it means 'the people of the earth/land'. It is what the native Chileans call themselves.**

**Mapu – The land.**

**Mapudugan – The Mapuche native language, it can also refer to the 'language' of nature since the Mapuche believe that their language developed when they learned to decipher nature's messages to them.**

"**Mapu ta choyuei" – A phrase meaning 'we sprouted from the earth'.**

**Maqui – Fermented corn beer, a traditional Mapuche alcoholic beverage.**

**Ngenechen – The force of good, light, creation. **

**Ngulamtun – Traditional system of Mapuche education where the elders teach the young children the customs, morals, and beliefs of their people.**

**Pentukum – Ritualized visits by younger Mapuche to the homes of elder Mapuche in order to practice etiquette, speaking skills, and social behavior. Usually a child is sent as a messenger (werken) to a relative's home to deliver a speech of greeting.**

**Peuma – Dreams. The dream state where Mapuche believe that spirits of their ancestors can communicate with them.**

**Piams – Proverbs, wise sayings, aphorisms. All piams are related to nature, self reflection, and personal conduct.**

**Ruka – Traditional Mapuche home made of wood with a steeply pitched thatch roof.**

**Wekufu – The force of evil, destruction, and darkness. All misfortune in Mapuche life is attributed to the wekufu.**

**Werken – A family's messenger, sent as ambassador on a visit to a relative in order to accomplish a task and to practice etiquette and approved social behavior.**


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

I left Nahuel sleeping and made my way to the village. When I came to the familiar paths my spirit tightened within me. Here was the riverbank where Pire and I used to bathe. There was the tree she'd climbed when she was four winters old and got stuck. She'd cried and I'd climbed up after her to carry her down on my back.

Slowing down, I walked along the path to the village and savored my memories, treading as leisurely as an old one with no chores to do and all day to enjoy the world around them.

I climbed over every place we'd played, visited the spot where Pire and I had cut poles to make her first loom. All these places were precious to me. All seemed clearer, sharper, and more defined. My eyes could see more, but my heart clung to the old scenes. I could feel them trying to slip away, so I clung to them all the more.

Gradually I drifted toward the village, seeing the clustered thatch of the rukas from between the trees. I settled in a stand of cinnamon trees just outside my mother and father's ruka. I found I could easily distinguish the voices inside. My mother, grandmother and one aunt were cooking. I could smell the smoke from the fire and the yeasty smell of sumita, the bread we always boiled in mother's iron cook pot. They spoke as they worked, talking of my young cousins who were playing outside.

Grandmother's voice was still commanding, but her heartbeat was irregular and the blood did not pulse as through her veins as it did through the others. I felt the hunger rising in me, but tamped it down.

In the brush and grasses I could hear my cousins playing a hiding game. Their voices had deepened over the years, but their names and faces came to me as I stood and watched over the compound where I'd grown up. Their heartbeats were clearly audible, pulsing with youthful vitality.

Then came a stifled shriek. It was Poma's voice.

I ran to where the sound originated and burst through the brush, hearing another heartbeat by hers. It was so familiar to me that I'd discounted it. I was a fool.

Poma was hiding behind an old, rotted tree when Nahuel found her. Her arm was broken. He'd dragged her from her hiding place and stood holding her by her injured limb. She was a little girl now, the toddler fat was gone and her legs were long as were her arms. She whimpered in pain and fear. Nahuel was just leaning down to rip out her throat when I interrupted. He looked up at me in surprise.

I did not think; I acted. I grabbed him and pulled him off my cousin. I shook him like a dog. His body smashed trees when I threw him away from her. Then I followed, rage burning inside me as Poma began to wail.

Her heartbeat was strong. She would live.

I stood over Nahuel. He sprawled on the ground in the splintered remains of tree trunks. He looked bewildered, remaining where he lay as he waited for me to reach him.

"Never touch family," I hissed at him. "Poma is your cousin!"

"My…my cousin?"

I nodded, allowing my anger to seep out of my eyes. From the surrounding forest I could hear Poma's brother and sisters running towards us. Poma was shrieking hysterically now, her cries rising in volume and intensity.

My lip curled in disgust at Nahuel. His head swiveled to the right and I knew his ears caught the sound of the children's advance.

"Come," I ordered harshly, and ran.

Nahuel came after me. Usually I slowed my pace for his sake. Today I did not.

I allowed him to catch up to me by a small pond high in the hills. He collapsed at my feet.

"Auntie Huelin, please forgive me. I did not know she was the Poma from your stories. She looks different than you said."

I glared but did not speak.

Nahuel bit his lip and bowed his head. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Sleep now," I said, and turned away.

Miserable, and doubtless hungry too, Nahuel curled up on the grass. It was a long time before his breathing evened out into sleep.

I was cold to him in the weeks that followed. I told him no stories. I neglected my responsibility as the elder to pass on knowledge of the admapu. He apologized again and again. He cried for the first time on our visit to his mother's grave. Had I been human, I would have moved to comfort him, but my heart was as cold and as hard as my skin.

Not long after, they came.

I took Nahuel to the coast, to the edge of Mapuche territory, far away from my home village. I hunted strong warriors, skilled huntsmen. For a time Nahuel tried to live on human food. I showed him which fruits and tubers were safe to eat, and he already knew how to catch game. He lasted two weeks before the lure of blood brought him to my side after a kill. Without comment, I shared my prey with him. It was in a meadow with a view of the sea.

I sensed the others before Nahuel did. I do not know if it was the smell of our prey's blood or their sense of another who shared their evil nature that drew them, but suddenly they were there, in the clearing.

There was a male and two females. Their hearts beat, but his did not. He was the same as me, only bigger and stronger. He was tall with glistening skin and eyes like burning coals. His face was strong featured, handsome. He glanced curiously at me, then his eyes went to Nahuel and he stared.

The two women were beautiful. The one to his right had skin the color of milk and her hair was a shade of light red that I've only seen on certain Spaniards new to our land. It curled in waves down her back. Her eyes were the color of water that rushes over rocks, a clear, near-translucent blue.

The other woman had darker skin. She was not Mapuche, but of some other tribe, for her face was rounder and her nose flatter than ours. Her curves were fuller than the other woman's and she reminded me of the clay statue in my grandmother's home that represented Ullche, the voluptuous young woman of the first family, the founders of the Mapuche.

The man stared at Nahuel for a long time. I was silent. We were outnumbered. I could run and perhaps lose the male, but Nahuel could not. The females possibly, but the male was more formidable. When he spoke, it was in oddly accented Spanish.

"You're Pire's boy, aren't you?"

He lifted a finger and tapped gracefully on his lips as he gazed up and down at my nephew.

Nahuel swallowed and took a step closer to me. It seemed to amuse the man. I kept my eyes on the stranger and my fists clenched. That seemed to amuse him even more.

"And who is this?" he asked, eyes flicking to me.

"Huelin, my aunt," Nahuel burst out. I motioned sharply to hush him and he subsided immediately.

"Huelin?" The man crossed his arms and looked thoughtful. "Oh yes, the sister."

He smiled at Nahuel broadly, approvingly. "Your doing, I take it? Impressive."

Nahuel growled under his breath, but did not speak.

"Well, this is an unexpected development." The man kept the smile on his face and said something to the women in a language I did not know.

"Who are you?" I asked boldly. I knew who he was, of course, who he had to be, but I would not call this man by the name Pire created. He was not my dark angel. He was evil through and through.

"I am called Joham. I've come to claim my son."

I was shocked. When this man left Pire I did not think to ever see him. I'd wondered if he'd gone back to the world of the spirits, but this was no evil spirit. Joham was solid and by the look of things, far older and more knowledgeable in the ways of the wekufu than I.

Joham smiled again, and I could see a glimpse of the charm that had attracted my poor sister. I glanced at Nahuel to see if it was working on him, but his expression was cautiously blank.

"Don't you want to meet your sisters?"

Joham gestured and the females took a step forward.

"This is Luisa," he said, and the red haired one made an odd bobbing movement that I later learned was called a curtsy.

"And this is Ake."

The dark haired one nodded solemnly, her resemblance to the young mother goddess even more striking. Their hearts beat slowly, neither frightened nor excited. Had my heart still worked, it would've been beating like Nahuel's at a fast staccato pace.

"What do you want?" I interrupted.

"Merely to gather another member of my family. The girls have been with me for many years. I'm very happy to find that I have a son now as well."

He smiled at Nahuel. He smiled too much.

"You can come along too," he threw in as an afterthought.

I bristled. Nahuel took a step away from me. I watched him carefully. If he chose to go with his father, my duty toward him would be done. Pire only asked me to care for Nahuel because she could not find her dark angel.

I did not trust or love this Joham, but Pire had. Surely her spirit would not blame me if I gave her murderer to the thing who'd spawned him? The thing she'd welcomed into her arms? I'd been cold and even less demonstrative than usual these past few weeks. Would he choose this bewitching monster over my less than tender care?

"Where are their mothers?" Nahuel asked, jerking his chin towards Luisa and Ake. All three registered a fleeting surprise.

"Why would you ask about something as insignificant as that?" puzzled Joham. "They died of course. They served their purpose."

Nahuel hissed and looked at the girls. "Are you really OK with that?" he asked incredulously.

They looked at Joham who spoke to them again in that strange language, evidently giving them permission to speak.

"Why wouldn't we be?" Ake asked in Spanish.

"They were just humans," said Luisa, eyes bright and curious.

"Girls," Joham's voice held an order in it. "Why don't you get to know Huelin while I speak with my son?"

They were by my side, flanking me in seconds. Instinctively I crouched into a defensive position. I was faster, I could have run, but that would have left Nahuel alone with them. As their warm hands latched onto my arms I bared my teeth and prepared to fight. There were two of them, but they were weaker than I.

"It's alright!" Nahuel admonished. "I don't mind talking to my…father."

His voice stumbled over the last word, as if it left a poor taste in his mouth. His heart rate was slower. He was no longer afraid.

I nodded slowly, rising out of my crouch and allowed the females to pull me over to the stream that ran through the meadow. They were silent, as was I. The gurgling of the water prevented them from hearing their father's words, but I listened as Joham attempted to convince Nahuel to join him.

He spoke of his dream of creating a master race. Nahuel listened politely, but I knew him well enough to see the disgust hiding beneath the surface of his bland expression. Joham was not Mapuche. He did not know that we hide our true hearts from those we do not trust.

"So your nephew made you?"

It was Luisa, the one with the snowy skin and fiery hair, asking the question.

"Yes," I replied shortly.

Ake said nothing. She had a calm, regal manner, as if she were an old chief harboring the wisdom that comes with many years and experiences. She sat on a rock and gazed at the water rushing past her feet.

"How old was he when he turned you?" Luisa persisted.

Turned. Cambio

I rolled the Spanish word around in my mind. It fit, but I did not like the implication. I already knew I was more wekufu than ngenechen. I did not like to be reminded.

"Newly born."

"Ah," sighed Luisa. "We can not turn other people. I am surprised your nephew can. Father will be pleased."

"No doubt."

I knew Nahuel was able to bring his curse of evil upon others. It was one of the reasons I waited until he was older to allow him to hunt alone. In the early days I trained him to drain his prey absolutely dry, to be sure they were dead. So frightened was I of the bodies coming back to life that I used to carry them to the volcanic vents on the mountain and consign them to the boiling mud. Eventually I realized Nahuel was too hungry to leave enough blood in his victims for life to return. When we killed we did it swiftly, always tearing the vein in the neck. If Nahuel went with Joham, would he forget what I had taught him?

Nahuel stood up, and so did I. He and Joham came over to join us. Not that Joham had much of a choice since Nahuel strode away from him, rudely turning his back.

"Nahuel will not be joining us," Joham said blandly, but I could tell he was not pleased. "Come girls."

He snapped his fingers and they moved gracefully to his side.

"I'll be back occasionally to see if you change your mind," he told Nahuel.

The boy stood expressionlessly at my side.

Joham waited to see if Nahuel would respond, then he was gone, running quickly down the hill, forcing the females to exert themselves to keep up.

I could contain my curiosity no longer.

"You did not go with him. Why?"

Nahuel looked surprised.

"You're my family, Auntie Huelin. Not him. When he spoke the way he did about my mother I understood why you were so angry about Poma. I will never go with one such as him."

Nahuel's body had grown unnaturally fast. I did not realize his mind had as well. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch and my spirit surprised me for it swelled within me. I had to concentrate to keep from smiling. This was Nahuel. He'd killed my sister. Smiles were not for one such as he. I gave him an approving nod instead.

He beamed as if I'd thrown my arms around his neck and embraced him. Then he sobered.

"Auntie Huelin?" he asked hesitantly.

"What?"

"May we go back to your village sometime? Just to watch!" he added quickly when he saw my eyebrow raise.

"I want to learn my cousins' names and faces so I don't accidentally kill them."

"I think that would be a very good idea."

Nahuel smiled and went to go scatter the body of our last meal for the scavengers of the forest. Things die and are consumed. Plants grow over bloody patches of ground. The mapu continues on as it always has. Balance and harmony must be maintained. It is the way of the admapu.

TO BE CONTINUED…

**A/N: To help with unfamiliar Mapudugan words, here's a glossary:**

**Admapu - The guidelines for Mapuche life and morals. 'Ad' means customs, traditions, the way things should be. 'Mapu' means land.**

**Epew – Literally translated, it means 'almost seeing oneself'. The Epew are stories of the past, both historical events and legends, that reinforce the Mapuche view of the world.**

**Kalku – A shamaness who is evil, a sorceress.**

**Libisomem – A Portuguese term, not a Mapuche word, it refers to a werewolf, usually the seventh son of a family. Meyer erroneously attributed the Libisomem (which she spelled 'Libishomen') to the Mapuche as well as the Brazilians, but it's primarily a Brazilian/Portuguese legend. **

**Macana – A mace, a stick-like weapon with a bulbous end, made from stone or wood.**

**Machi – A shaman, usually a woman who mediates between the natural and spiritual worlds.**

**Machitun – The mapuche healing ritual conducted by the Machi (shamaness) consisting of diagnosis, expulsion, and spiritual revelation about the illness.**

**Mapuche – Literally translated, it means 'the people of the earth/land'. It is what the native Chileans call themselves.**

**Mapu – The land.**

**Mapudugan – The Mapuche native language, it can also refer to the 'language' of nature since the Mapuche believe that their language developed when they learned to decipher nature's messages to them.**

"**Mapu ta choyuei" – A phrase meaning 'we sprouted from the earth'.**

**Maqui – Fermented corn beer, a traditional Mapuche alcoholic beverage.**

**Ngenechen – The force of good, light, creation. **

**Ngulamtun – Traditional system of Mapuche education where the elders teach the young children the customs, morals, and beliefs of their people.**

**Pentukum – Ritualized visits by younger Mapuche to the homes of elder Mapuche in order to practice etiquette, speaking skills, and social behavior. Usually a child is sent as a messenger (werken) to a relative's home to deliver a speech of greeting.**

**Peuma – Dreams. The dream state where Mapuche believe that spirits of their ancestors can communicate with them.**

**Piams – Proverbs, wise sayings, aphorisms. All piams are related to nature, self reflection, and personal conduct.**

**Ruka – Traditional Mapuche home made of wood with a steeply pitched thatch roof.**

**Wekufu – The force of evil, destruction, and darkness. All misfortune in Mapuche life is attributed to the wekufu.**

**Werken – A family's messenger, sent as ambassador on a visit to a relative in order to accomplish a task and to practice etiquette and approved social behavior.**


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

I took Nahuel to the outer edges of Mapuche territory where those of Spanish descent hid in their army villages. Their homes were built differently than the rukas of our hillside village. Great walls surrounded them.

It smelled. It was loud as if the Spaniards were constantly preparing for war. We did not enter those places. Instead we traveled on the fringes where Spanish families lived in their ranch houses, their fields and stock tended by Mapuche from the lowland tribes.

We watched, we listened, and finally I heard what I was waiting for. It was the language Joham spoke to his daughters when he did not want us to know what he said.

The rancho was set at the edge of a vast sea of pampas grass. Cattle grazed complacently in small groups. We ignored them. We'd fed not long before discovering the rancho so cow blood did not interest us. The blood of animals could not fully satisfy our dark urges, and we resorted to it only in time of direst need.

I sent Nahuel to speak to the vaqueros. He pretended to be looking for work. His eyes were not red like mine, his evil nature better hidden. Nahuel found out that the English speakers, for that was the name of the language, were brother and sister. The sister was wife to the Spaniard who owned the rancho. I snickered a bit inside at the word 'owned'. You could own a tool or a weapon, but who can truly own the land? The mapu allows us to live on it, to co-exist with it. That is all.

Can one own the sea? Or the birds that migrate across it?

The vaqueros said that the brother spoke some Spanish, enough to hold short conversations with them. He came from a land called England. I decided to take the brother rather than the sister. There was something wrong about taking a woman from her home, even a foreign one. We Mapuche believe that women were created first, as befits our role as the originators of life in the family. When a Mapuche woman dies, her whole family is dislocated from the ad mapu until a younger woman of the household is chosen to hold the family together and be responsible for ensuring that the family adheres to the way of the ad mapu. To lose the woman of a household was a grave matter and I could sense no female children or other female relatives in the house so there was no one to take on her role should she be lost.

The brother wandered onto the porch one night. He was burning a stick which he drew in and out of his mouth. It had a curious scent. I knew I had to be careful. I did not want to kill him. He would serve another purpose.

The light from the ranch house windows spilled out onto the dusty wood planks surrounding the front of the house. They lay in perfect squares of gold. I walked between each set of squares, not wanting the skin exposed at my neck and hands to sparkle in the light and alert the man to my presence.

He was leaning on the porch rail, head tilted to the side to catch the strains of music coming from the bunkhouse. The vaqueros were playing a stringed instrument and singing in Spanish.

I struck from behind as he raised his hand to the smoking stick in his mouth.

The stick fell to the ground.

Knocking his hand away, I covered his mouth, wrapping my other arm around his torso so I could lift his body off the ground. Hefting him across my hip, I ran. He yelled and thrashed his legs wildly. It did not stop me.

He went limp in my arms and I realized my forefinger was against his nostrils and not only covering his mouth. I removed my hand and slung his body over my shoulder. His heart still beat. He was unconscious, not dead. Perhaps I should have let Nahuel capture the man, but the memory of Poma's broken arm stopped me from sending him. Even though Nahuel was weaker than I, he was still growing and I feared he would accidentally crush that which I wished to save.

I met Nahuel at the edge of the pampas. Without a word, we turned and ran back towards the hills of home.

o-o-o

The man woke slowly. Nahuel and I fashioned a ruka up by an alpine pond. It was inaccessible to regular humans, requiring a leaping ascent up cliffsides with treacherous footing. The rock had a tendency to crumble, sending puffs of grey-black powder upwards.

I'd woven blankets for Nahuel and our prisoner out of llama wool, and though Nahuel and I no longer ate cooked food, I made a fire in the middle of the hut and set the man on a blanket near it. His face was pale, and he had strips of hair growing in front of his ears. His hair was an odd color, neither black like our hair, fiery red like Luisa's, nor was it golden. Instead it was like ash, somewhere between the dark of charcoal and the silver of old people's hair. It reminded me of the dusky line of mist that rises up from the horizon, getting lighter at the top and more solid seeming at its base.

He was very young, this man, and his eyes were a pale blue. They opened and blinked, looking around as if he could not quite believe he were truly in a Mapuche house.

Nahuel cleared his throat threateningly, and the man reacted. He pushed himself into a seated position, staring at us across the fire. He spoke angrily in that strange language of his, eyes watering from the smoke and blinking at the ashes that drifted up from the fire. He quickly switched to Spanish when he saw we did not understand. I smiled approvingly inside. He was intelligent. I had chosen well.

At first he threatened us with the law of the Spaniards, which he called Chilean law, and with the wrath of the English government. Nahuel and I listened with our faces blank. My nephew knew how to behave in the face of strangers.

Reveal nothing. Hide your true self. It is what I'd done to Nahuel his whole life, and he'd learned from my example and teaching.

Eventually the tirade ended.

"What do you want from me?" he asked in Spanish.

"You will teach us English," I answered in the same language.

"Look, miss," he leaned closer to the fire to glare at me over it. "You can't just go around…"

He broke off with a gasp, and his face grew even paler as he sank back, away from the fire, away from me.

"Your eyes…Mother of God, what…?"

"Huilen is ill!" Nahuel said quickly.

We'd decided to hide our curse from the man. Already there were stories growing among our people of evil spirits loose in the land. If the stranger had heard the stories and suspected us, he would be too frightened to be of use.

"Ill?" he repeated.

I stood abruptly, too abruptly. The man gasped and I cursed inside. I would have to watch my movement from now on to be sure I didn't move too fast. I'd need to slow down as I did when I ran with Nahuel.

"I'm going to hunt."

Suddenly I wanted to be away from the ruka, away from this man who stared at me with such astonished horror. Mapuche do not show fear to strangers. The man was rude and ignorant of our ways. I left the hut and ran down the cliff. I would hunt for food for the annoying one. I remembered how to cook. He would not be able to chide us. I set my face to the trees and sniffed for game.

o-o-o

"No, no, no. It's 'all-ways' not 'ohl-ways'"

"All-ways," Nahuel repeated carefully.

Cedric Balfountain had been with us seven moons. At first he tried to escape, but I always caught him before he fell off the cliff. He refused to strike me, which made me laugh inside for I was much stronger than Nahuel, with whom he'd wrestle mightily until Nahuel subdued him.

I warned Nahuel to be careful, to fight as if he were weak, but he'd broken Cedric's finger and one rib by mistake as they struggled. The rib was Nahuel's fault for grabbing Cedric too quickly, but the finger was the result of a bad landing when Nahuel bore Cedric to the ground just before he would have reached the cliff's edge.

Cedric grew sullen when he knew he could not escape, but we were patient and eventually he consented to teach us. It was Nahuel who learned quickest. I was the slow one in this and had to repeat things many times. As a child I'd learned Spanish easily from the friar who visited our village from time to time. English was more difficult.

Nahuel and I wrote the words "always" "never" and "sometimes" with bits of charcoal on flat stones as Cedric explained them to us. He made us use the words in sentences then dismissed us for the day as the light was fading.

I sent Nahuel to hunt for Cedric's supper and wiped the stones clean to use the next day. It was hard enough learning to speak English, but Cedric insisted we learn to write it as well. I did not see the purpose in it for Nahuel and I were always together so we did not need to leave each other messages. Cedric wrote sometimes in a small book he kept in his pocket. I would much rather speak than write.

Cedric stood in the doorway of the ruka, watching Nahuel disappear. I was proud of my nephew, for he walked like a normal person, saving his burst of speed for when Cedric could no longer see him.

"One day I will find your secret route down from here," Cedric promised.

He turned and looked at me. "You can't keep me here forever, you know."

I stared back. He had not spoken of escape in over two moons. Why now?

"Are you unhappy?" I asked in Spanish. "Do we not feed you? Clothe you?"

His face took on an odd expression and he came to sit near me by the pond.

"It isn't a question of happiness, it's a question of freedom."

"You are not free," I pointed out, setting the cleaning rag down carefully.

We Mapuche sometimes took captives on raids. They became part of our village and resumed their place in the ad mapu. They did not like it, but it was not something they could change and eventually they grew used to it. Captive women often ended up marrying men of the village that captured them. Life went on. We all knew this.

Cedric was not Mapuche, and I was beginning to realize he would never be content as a captive.

He spoke of freedom, of how important it was to Englishmen. He spoke of the Magna Carta and the Glorious Revolution, concepts I could barely understand even though he tried to explain them.

"You will stay here and teach us English," I said coldly, then rose to go to the pond to rinse out the wash rag.

As I left I heard him mutter an unfamiliar word harshly and knew I'd angered him. I did not care. He was useful. He would live on and teach us what we needed to know to understand Joham's secret words. Whether Cedric was happy or not did not matter at all.

Cedric grew ill.

Wintertime was upon us. Snow fell lightly on our meadow and I had to break the ice on the pond each morning to fill water skins for Cedric. He coughed and became weak. He needed healing herbs, but it was winter and the time for harvesting herbs was long past. I would have to steal some. I sent Nahuel to hunt for human prey. When he returned, I left him with Cedric and pretended to go hunting for myself. I did not want Nahuel to know that I was returning to my village. He would want to come along to watch our family and I had to move fast to get the herbs before Cedric wondered where I was.

Grandmother's ruka was silent. I could hear her breathing and her slow heartbeat. She slept. I slipped into the hut, my eyes piercing the shadows as if it were day. I could smell the heady bouquet of herbs in pots, baskets, and drying in the rafters. My nose led me to the scents I remembered from my childhood cold remedies and I gathered them.

"Huilen?"

Just like that, from one second to the next, my grandmother was awake. I'd forgotten her gift for waking quickly. I no longer slept.

I froze, hoping she would not see me. I was a fool. Grandmother was a machi, the spirits whispered to her.

"I know it is you," she rasped from her bed. My face was toward the herb baskets, she could see only my back.

"Go to sleep Grandmother," I kept my voice soft.

"I am an old woman, I do not need as much sleep."

She pushed herself upright among the bedding. I could hear the scrape of her blankets and the creaking of her bones. She hissed slightly and I knew her joints pained her.

"I am not who you remember, Grandmother," I said to the baskets.

"That is true. My granddaughter would never steal what she could have for the asking," she responded tartly.

"It is not for me," I mumbled, shamed.

"Then for Pire?" Grandmother's voice rose hopefully. For the first time she sounded vulnerable.

"Your sister, is she ill? Where is she? She was always more delicate, like a bird with those small bones. Where is my pretty little one?"

I closed my eyes. "Gone," I said.

"Gone? Gone where? What have you done?"

The accusation in my grandmother's words cut deeply.

"Dead," I replied harshly. "A spirit of the wekufu impregnated her. The child ripped her open, killing her."

She gasped and I remembered that she was an old woman and unwell. I was sorry for my words.

Grandmother began to cry, and the scent of her tears tore at my senses. I ran, but even as I did I could hear grandmother mourning, "Pire! Ah Pire, my beautiful granddaughter, Pire! Pire!"

She would rouse the village with her grief and soon all would know of Pire's fate. They would grieve the loss of a beloved daughter of the village.

Would anyone mourn for me? Could I die? I did not trust Joham, and would gladly kill him if I could, but now I wished I'd asked him more questions, for he was the only other one of my kind that I knew. Nahuel was weaker, more human than I.

The herbs helped Cedric. I nursed him as I had nursed Pire through her childhood illnesses. Sometimes I caught Nahuel watching me with Cedric. There was an anger in his gaze that I did not understand. He left often to hunt, even when it was not necessary.

One evening when the fire burned low, Cedric began to speak in English. He called me Blanche, and I realized he was speaking to his sister. I could not understand everything of course, but I knew enough to realize that he'd been sent to his sister's house because his father was afraid for her. He mentioned 'savages' and I knew that he meant the Mapuche. He rambled on about other things and I stopped listening.

I left to go fetch more wood for the fire, and when I returned his eyes were open, and clear of the fever. He held onto my arm as I pulled the water skin away from his mouth when he'd finished drinking. He lay cradled in my arms, my left one around his shoulders, the other holding the water skin. I thought Cedric wanted more water, but he merely held my forearm.

"I wanted to thank you for all you've done for me," he said.

I shrugged, a mannerism I'd picked up from him.

"Truly, I could not ask for a better nurse."

If he only knew how his blood called to me, how hard it was to resist.

"Are you surprised that my 'savage' remedies worked?" I asked, careful to pronounce the word 'savage' just as he had when he was delirious.

Cedric winced. "Please believe me, Huilen. I may have thought that once, but I don't anymore. I would like it very much if we could be friends from now on."

His eyes were beginning to glaze over with tiredness. He would sleep soon, yet he fought to keep his eyelids open.

"If you'd like," I answered, more to get him to surrender to the dream world than anything else. I heard Nahuel returning, but thought nothing of it.

"Friends, then."

Cedric sighed, closed his eyes and slept.

I set him down and looked up to see Nahuel in the doorway staring at Cedric with an intensity that looked almost like hatred.

When Cedric was better Nahuel threw himself into his English studies, insisting that we move faster. Encouraged, Cedric did as he asked.

Days passed. The moons drifted by. Nahuel outpaced me, and Cedric began teaching us separately.

"Your nephew is going to wear me out," laughed Cedric.

The days were warm now, and had been for a long time. The wind whispered overhead. It was harvest time, but soon the chill would come. Already the nights grew colder. I was curing a llama skin for Cedric. He leaned against a tree, arms crossed, the neck of his shirt open, the wind tugging gently at his hair and shirt collar.

"He learns quickly," I admitted, drawing the sharpened stone down the skin to remove the last bits of fat clinging to it.

"Quickly? He's a veritable prodigy,"

Seeing my incomprehension, Cedric explained the word.

"I am not a prodigy," I told him dryly when he finished.

"Perhaps not," the laughter faded from Cedric's eyes. "But there are better things in life than being a prodigy. You are a beautiful woman, Huilen."

I froze. Why would he say such things? I was not Pire. I was not beautiful.

"I will not tell you the way down the cliff," I said firmly.

He laughed, a short bark of a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

"How can I convince you that I wouldn't care if I never left this meadow?"

I raised my eyes from the llama skin. I never intended to let Cedric leave the meadow alive. Had he guessed his fate?

No. The look he was giving me was not the frightened look of a man contemplating death. It was…tender? I was silent with shock. Cedric saw this.

"Forgive me," he said gently. "I should not have spoken so to you."

The laughter came back into his eyes. "But I reserve the right to revisit the topic again sometime."

He pushed himself to his feet and went back to the ruka as I gazed after him.

That night it was my turn to hunt. Nahuel told me of a village around the other side of the far mountain. I caught a man coming home from the fields and dragged him into the forest to feed. When I returned to the cliff, the scent of blood filled my nose. It was Cedric's blood.

Nahuel sat beside the corpse inside the ruka, waiting for me. I looked from it to him.

"What have you done?" I asked.

Nahuel would not look at me. "He is not our family."

"I know this, but why?"

"Because he asked me if he could wed you!" Nahuel spat out. "I saw how he looked at you, and how you looked at him. He is not like us. He will never be like us."

I understood then that Nahuel was jealous of Cedric and feared that I'd bring our curse on our teacher. Nahuel did not wish to share me.

There he sat, my nephew, the killer of my sister. I'd shown no affection or tenderness to Nahuel, yet he chose to stay with me instead of going with Joham. He'd killed a human he thought would take me from him, a human I'd…what? I had no thoughts of love toward Cedric. Even if I had I never would have acted on them. I remembered too well the marks on Pire's body after a night with Joham. That was not love. It was not giving or tender, it was selfish and uncaring. I would also not wish on anyone the pain I'd felt when Nahuel bit me and cursed me forever.

"Are you angry with me?" Nahuel asked in a small voice. He was, in many ways, a child still. His body was that of a young man, yet he'd lived only five winters.

"Clean up your mess," I told him. "We leave this place tonight."

He sighed and obeyed.

"Mapu ta choyuei-meu" I whispered softly in the language of my people.

We sprouted from the earth.

In the end our bodies return to it while our spirits wander. Cedric's body would be given back to the mapu. Cedric spoke of the same God as the missionaries. I hoped his God would receive him with tenderness. I had no love for Cedric, but I wished his spirit well.

I would take Nahuel to go check up on our family, to re-familiarize him with the way of the ad mapu. I would remind him where he came from. I would fight every last bit of his father in him. He would know that killing for anything but food was wrong. I would also make very sure never to befriend another human again, for what good can come of one of the wekufu, cursed and evil, consorting with a human? We will watch over our family and feed only when necessary. Nahuel is a duty I cannot shirk. Pire wished it so.

**A/N: To help with unfamiliar Mapudugan words, here's a glossary:**

**Ad mapu - The guidelines for Mapuche life and morals. 'Ad' means customs, traditions, the way things should be. 'Mapu' means land.**

**Epew – Literally translated, it means 'almost seeing oneself'. The Epew are stories of the past, both historical events and legends, that reinforce the Mapuche view of the world.**

**Kalku – A shamaness who is evil, a sorceress.**

**Libisomem – A Portuguese term, not a Mapuche word, it refers to a werewolf, usually the seventh son of a family. Meyer erroneously attributed the Libisomem (which she spelled 'Libishomen') to the Mapuche as well as the Brazilians, but it's primarily a Brazilian/Portuguese legend. **

**Macana – A mace, a stick-like weapon with a bulbous end, made from stone or wood.**

**Machi – A shaman, usually a woman who mediates between the natural and spiritual worlds.**

**Machitun – The mapuche healing ritual conducted by the Machi (shamaness) consisting of diagnosis, expulsion, and spiritual revelation about the illness.**

**Mapuche – Literally translated, it means 'the people of the earth/land'. It is what the native Chileans call themselves.**

**Mapu – The land.**

**Mapudugan – The Mapuche native language, it can also refer to the 'language' of nature since the Mapuche believe that their language developed when they learned to decipher nature's messages to them.**

"**Mapu ta choyuei" – A phrase meaning 'we sprouted from the earth'.**

**Maqui – Fermented corn beer, a traditional Mapuche alcoholic beverage.**

**Ngenechen – The force of good, light, creation. **

**Ngulamtun – Traditional system of Mapuche education where the elders teach the young children the customs, morals, and beliefs of their people.**

**Pentukum – Ritualized visits by younger Mapuche to the homes of elder Mapuche in order to practice etiquette, speaking skills, and social behavior. Usually a child is sent as a messenger (werken) to a relative's home to deliver a speech of greeting.**

**Peuma – Dreams. The dream state where Mapuche believe that spirits of their ancestors can communicate with them.**

**Piams – Proverbs, wise sayings, aphorisms. All piams are related to nature, self reflection, and personal conduct.**

**Ruka – Traditional Mapuche home made of wood with a steeply pitched thatch roof.**

**Wekufu – The force of evil, destruction, and darkness. All misfortune in Mapuche life is attributed to the wekufu.**

**Werken – A family's messenger, sent as ambassador on a visit to a relative in order to accomplish a task and to practice etiquette and approved social behavior.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? Please review and let me know**

CHAPTER FIVE

Joham returned ten winters later. With him came his daughters, Nahuel's sisters. I sensed them before I saw them. Nahuel and I waited for them in a clearing by where the great waters rushed down a gorge. Pire's favorite yellow flowers pushed up through the soil. If need be, we could jump down the gorge to escape for we knew the secret places to put our feet on the rocks hidden beneath the torrents.

I need not have worried. Joham came to talk, not to fight.

"Greetings," he said in Spanish as he walked through the hip high blooms.

Luisa and Ake walked behind him, at his shoulders. Again he asked if Nahuel wished to join him and again Nahuel refused. He showed no anger and instead asked Nahuel many questions about his health and his abilities. He tried to include me in the conversation whenever Nahuel glanced my way. He was clever, trying to ingratiate himself with my nephew.

Finally the moment came that Nahuel and I had planned for.

Joham spoke rapidly in English to the females. "Talk to the boy. Convince him to come with us. You're his sisters. Use that. He's sure to be curious. I'll deal with the woman. If I can convince her, he'll follow her lead."

As we'd practiced, Nahuel and I pretended we did not understand his words. Nahuel went with the two females gladly when they asked him, leaving me with Joham. He led me closer to the water and we sat on rocks.

I was uncomfortable in his presence. Nahuel's bite changed me, made me the same sort of monster as Joham, yet in the man's presence I felt like a child rather than an equal. He had a sense of age about him, and a shrewdness that made me think that no matter what pretty words came from his lips, his mind was always on something else, ever calculating.

"I believe we got off on the wrong foot," he told me in Spanish. "I hope to remedy that. After all, we both want what's best for the boy."

"Nahuel is Mapuche. He belongs here," I insisted stubbornly.

"Living in huts? Cowering in the shadows? There is so much more I could show him, teach him." Joham threw his arms out and laughed. "There is a whole world outside your tribal lands, Huilen, and Nahuel can blend in perfectly. He is the best of both races, vampire and human, capable of living among them, but superior to them in every way. He could be worshipped like a god."

"Wekufu, perhaps," I muttered. Joham's good cheer grated on me.

"Wekufu?" he echoed. "Is that the name of one of your gods?"

"It is death, destruction. Wekufu is all that is dark and evil in the world," I admitted reluctantly.

"An evil god? Is that how you see us?" Joham laughed incredulously.

"It is what we are."

Joham sobered, the smile fading from his lips and a look of calculation came into his ruby eyes.

"You think because we prey on humans that we are evil? What of their evil? At least we aren't hiding behind pious hypocrisy. Humans kill in the name of their God."

I was confused. The Spanish missionaries spoke of a God who was kind and loving. He was too kind, in fact, for the Mapuche to take seriously. We strive to live in harmony with nature, but had no illusions about it. There were times when war councils had to meet. How could we follow a God who told us to love and forgive our enemies? How could the balance of the ad mapu be maintained if good did not fight evil?

'Thou shalt not kill' the missionaries said. Yet how could you raid an enemy village and not take lives?

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He smirked. "I don't suppose you've heard of the Spanish Inquisition?"

His contempt stung as he meant it to. He wanted me to feel inadequate so I'd give Nahuel over to him. As it happened I had heard of the Inquisition. Cedric used it as an example to show the difference between the freedom loving English and the tyrannical King Philip of Spain who'd sent many ships to England to try to conquer it. Of course I would not say this to Joham, for he would want to know how I knew of English history.

"What is it?"

"A time when no vampire was safe. The Catholics killed anyone who did not fit their idea of what was acceptable. They tortured and killed their way through Europe. They nearly caught me, but I escaped of course."

His smug assertion irritated me.

"I do not think those Catholics read the same book the missionaries brought to my village to teach of their God."

"I've read that book," Joham said dismissively. "It hardly applies to ones such as us. We are above such petty concerns. I am a man of science. I don't need a god to tell me what I can or can't do. I make my own future." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I shape destiny. Nahuel will be a part of that."

My spirit grew fearful. Joham's ideas were the exact opposite of the ad mapu. Instead of learning the ways of the earth and the spirits to find his place in it, he sought to rebel and make his own way. Pire had paid the price for his unnatural schemes.

"Nahuel may do as he likes," I said indifferently.

If Joham thought I was the key to gaining Nahuel, he would be disappointed. "He is grown and makes his own decisions."

"But he listens to you."

"We hunt together," I said, standing up. "That is all."

He stood as well, eyes boring into mine to try to see into my soul.

I am Mapuche. I do not quail in the face of danger. Let him search. He'd be met with only blankness. Suddenly he smiled.

"Perhaps we will hunt together on our next visit."

He snapped his fingers. "Girls! We're leaving."

They came to him like trained dogs, and followed when he led them out of the meadow. Nahuel and I watched them go.

"What did he say?" asked Nahuel when we could no longer see or sense them.

"He wants to hunt with us," I said dryly. "I think hunting with him would be like having a panther for a hunting partner. You would have to watch your back during the whole hunt, lest you become prey to your partner. And you? What did you learn?"

Nahuel grimaced. "Luisa and Ake do not even know their mothers' names. They aren't curious about them and have no one to tell them of their family or teach them the ad mapu. Joham calls them a 'super race' and they believe whatever he tells them."

"You believe what I tell you, don't you?" I asked absently.

It is the way of the young to look to their elders to teach them, for have not the elders been on the earth longer? Have they not experienced more?

"Of course," returned Nahuel. "But that's because I know you would not lie to me. You never have before, even when I wished you would."

He plucked a yellow flower from its stem and gazed at it in his palm for a moment before blowing on it, his breath causing it to fall to the ground. I knew he was thinking of Pire and her death. The yellow blossoms were her favorite, bright, cheerful, and delicate, like her.

"Come," I said. "We have not checked on our village in many moons. Perhaps Poma's young man has wed her at last."

"That one?" Nahuel wrinkled his nose comically. "He can barely open his mouth to talk to her."

"It is what's in one's heart, not one's mouth that matters," I chided Nahuel, though I secretly agreed with him.

The lovesick youth was shy indeed. Bubbly little Poma would talk enough for the both of them. My heart longed for my family and the familiar surroundings of my youth. I felt that if I did not see them often their memories would fade. Telling Nahuel of Pire kept her memory fresh. Since the beginning when my mind sharpened I could retrace my steps to any place I'd been. I'd always had a good sense of direction, but now I remembered the numbers of leaves on the trees, the shape of rocks, the number of steps it took to get anywhere. My memories of the time before Nahuel, however, were dimmer as though seen through a waterfall or a dust storm.

Saying the stories over and over kept them alive. It was good that Nahuel never grew tired of them.

Nahuel and I left the clearing to hide once more in the shadows and watch over the village we could not rejoin.

o-o-o

Years passed. Grandmother died. Our little Poma had children of her own, as did her brother. Her sisters died in childbirth. The forest grew restless with activity. The Spaniards, now called Chileans, crossed the Bio Bio River and caused much grief among the lowland Mapuche. The highland Mapuche called a war council. A black llama was sacrificed, its blood drained and its meat pierced with spears and arrows before being eaten. We watched, Nahuel and I, from the shadows as the men of our village left the foothills to fight alongside the Mapuche below. My father and Poma's brother did not come back. Nahuel wanted to go as well, but I prevented it.

"Would you lend the power of the wekufu to this battle? Would you tip the land out of balance?" I asked him.

He hung his head. He knew the truth of my words. We were monsters, feeding on the blood of people, our people. Though we kept ourselves from the final atrocity of preying on our own kin, other Mapuche tribes had no protection against us. We killed because we had to eat. The memory of Cedric's death was often in my heart when I spoke to Nahuel of the war.

"We kill only when we must," I reminded him. "It is our way of making harmony with the ad mapu."

I grieved for my father and my cousins, and later for my mother who died soon after of illness. There was much illness in the village, as if the bodies of the grieving could not contain their grief and it spilled out of them, breaking them down.

More Spaniards came. They told the villagers that Mapuche land now belonged to the Chilean government. They spoke of treaties signed. Almost Nahuel and I killed these men, but I knew that if we did others would follow, and who would suffer most but our village? I thought of the garrison towns we'd seen when we sought out Cedric.

Some of the villagers, families with ties to lowland tribes, went with the Chileans. They were to be given land of their own. As if land were something that could be parceled out like pieces of fruit.

Poma stayed and her daughters as well. Because they lived on fish, game, and what vegetables they could grow in their small gardens, the Chileans did not see the value of their land. They wished instead for the fertile soil of the lowlands, and the vast expanses of pampas grass for their herds.

"Let them have the lowlands," I told Nahuel. "The mountains are ours."

Joham came again. This time he did not extend the courtesy of a greeting.

I sensed his evil presence far off and when it came no closer, I followed it to a village on the far side of the high mountain. He and his daughters were feeding on a family. The father and mother were already dead, lying at the feet of Luisa and Ake. Joham was kneeling over a boy child in his death throes as his little sister curled into a ball, wailing soundlessly, eyes wide and shocked as she rocked herself, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Ah, you're here." Joham wiped his lips with the back of his hand, dropping the boy's body and stepping over it as if it were nothing. He came to stand in front of us.

"Why are you here?" I asked rudely. Joham did not deserve the courtesy of a formal greeting. He trespassed on our territory and killed Mapuche. Even animals knew not to infringe on others' hunting grounds.

"To visit my son, of course. Doesn't every father long for his children? And your sisters have missed you as well," he said, giving a subtle motion with his fingers.

Luisa and Ake came to stand beside Joham. Their clothing was different than it had been before. There was a lot of material bunched wastefully in the back.

Nahuel nodded grudgingly at them. They returned it expressionlessly.

"I wish to speak to my son, if you please." Joham's words were polite, but the glint in his eye warned that he would not take a refusal easily.

I merely nodded. I did not fear that Nahuel would go with him. Nahuel's hatred towards Joham was nearly as great as mine. He took my nephew a little ways off by a clump of laurel trees and began asking him questions.

I was left alone with the female vampires. They circled me appraisingly, whispering to each other in English. I allowed it, but stood ready to strike should they attack.

"She hasn't changed at all, has she?" Luisa commented.

"No," her sister answered.

"If I didn't know better I'd say that was the same dress she was wearing when we were here before. By the smell of it, she hasn't changed her cloak."

Resisting the urge to glance down at my dress, I stared straight ahead. It was not the same dress. Clothing wore out, but I knew how to weave. It was not my fault if the two wekufu spawned monstrosities did not know the differences in Mapuche weaving patterns. I liked the deep red hue from the roble pellin plant rather than the softer color of the relvun. I used the dye from the roble pellin plant often. The color of blood suited me.

"She does not leave the forest," Ake observed. "She is caught by her superstitions, what her human family taught her. She is afraid to go anywhere else."

"Do you think so?" Luisa opened her eyes wide. "What a waste to let her upbringing dictate…everything. Those clothes especially." She raked her gaze up and down me, then smiled with lying eyes. "She looks like a peasant, a savage."

I did not tear her fire colored locks from her head. I did not spring upon her. I remained still. I hid my true self from her. She was a stranger.

"I was a savage once too, you know," Ake reminded Luisa, stopping midway through her endless circling.

Luisa flicked a hand disparagingly.

"That hardly counts. Your human mother may have been one, but she didn't contaminate you with her silly human ideas. You've risen above your origins thanks to father. As have I."

She laughed and curtsied. "Can you imagine me, back in Spain among all those dons and donas with their rules and strictures and chaperones?"

"Even less than I can imagine myself there." Ake send a sharp lightning glance at me. "Or her."

I'd had enough.

"What are you speaking of?" I asked in Spanish.

"We are admiring your clothes," Luisa answered in the same tongue, smiling her false smile.

Ake wisely stayed silent. Perhaps she knew I did not believe her sister. Taking Luisa by the arm, she drew her back toward the house. They disappeared inside and I could hear them rummaging around.

They were no better than untrained children, rude, thoughtless, and centered upon themselves rather than learning the ad mapu. They left the bodies of the man and woman they'd slaughtered lying by the doorway of the hut.

I looked at the corpses. Softly I chanted a song of my grandmother's to placate their spirits, and protect them from the snares of the kalku, those evil sorceresses who cast dark spells to contaminate spirits. Ancestral spirits were vulnerable to such things. I made sure Nahuel always showed the spirits the proper respect.

As I thought of him, Nahuel turned from his father and strode angrily into the hut.

"I'd rather visit with Luisa and Ake," he muttered, when Joham tried to call him back.

Joham let him go, gazing sharply at his back. His face in profile was absurdly handsome. I could see why Pire thought him beautiful, but there was something false about it to me. He sensed my scrutiny and turned, smiling, to walk toward me.

I came to meet him, ending up by the body of the boy he'd killed. The other child, forgotten and ignored by all of us, was silent. She'd rolled over on her side, facing away from her brother's corpse, and was sucking her thumb though she was too old for such a habit.

"Ah, children, what can you do? They have minds of their own," he observed.

"Children are the future. They must be cherished and taught the way of the land."

The ad mapu was so much more than just the earth beneath our feet, but I could think of no other word in Spanish than 'tierra' that would be closer to its true meaning.

"Did your human parents tell you that?"

Obviously Joham had been listening to his daughters' conversation while talking with Nahuel, as I'd been listening to his questions to Nahuel.

"It's the truth."

"The truth, eh?" Joham moved quickly and snatched up the human girl, holding her up in his left hand by the back of her shirt. "The truth is, humans are food, nothing more.

With his free hand, Joham grabbed the child's arm and twisted.

Muscle tore. Bones dislocated, and the hot sweet smell of blood filled my nose as he tore the girl's arm off. Blood gushed down her tiny chest and side. The girl's eyes grew impossibly big as she began to gasp. I looked into those eyes and saw terror, pain, and a pleading that I'd learned to ignore on the faces of my victims.

Joham tossed the girl's body at my feet, lifting the arm to his mouth so he could begin sucking on the blood oozing from it.

I knelt and broke the child's neck. It was one thing to kill for food. To torture one's prey for pleasure was something I would never do. Even when I'd hunted in the forest when I was a human, I'd not tormented the animals I sought. Only a monster would do such a thing.

The beast smirked and threw the arm aside. He walked over to a door by the side of the hut and gazed at the half finished blanket on a loom standing by the side of the hut. Yellow, white, and purple threads of a very old Mapuche design clung together on the frame. Joham crossed his arms and raised a finger to tap delicately at his lips as he stared.

"Humans have some uses, I suppose. Skills, artistic ability and the like, but we surpass them. Any trifling gift a human has is enhanced a thousand fold when they become what we are."

He reached out and tipped the loom on its side. "They are nothing. We endure. The race I'm creating will be so much better than mere human."

His eyes sharpened and the smile he gave me was all teeth, white and glowing like his skin. "I am creating a better future for everyone."

The smears of blood on his chin belied his words. Against my will, my mouth filled with the desire for blood of my own, but I would not feed on the small body Joham had tossed to the ground.

"Nahuel!" I called. "We're going."

I turned and ran into the forest, allowing its darkness to cover me. A few moments later Nahuel's footsteps joined mine. He was back with me where he belonged.

To Be Continued…

**A/N: To help with unfamiliar Mapudugan words, here's a glossary:**

**Ad mapu - The guidelines for Mapuche life and morals. 'Ad' means customs, traditions, the way things should be. 'Mapu' means land.**

**Epew – Literally translated, it means 'almost seeing oneself'. The Epew are stories of the past, both historical events and legends, that reinforce the Mapuche view of the world.**

**Kalku – A shamaness who is evil, a sorceress.**

**Libisomem – A Portuguese term, not a Mapuche word, it refers to a werewolf, usually the seventh son of a family. Meyer erroneously attributed the Libisomem (which she spelled 'Libishomen') to the Mapuche as well as the Brazilians, but it's primarily a Brazilian/Portuguese legend. **

**Macana – A mace, a stick-like weapon with a bulbous end, made from stone or wood.**

**Machi – A shaman, usually a woman who mediates between the natural and spiritual worlds.**

**Machitun – The mapuche healing ritual conducted by the Machi (shamaness) consisting of diagnosis, expulsion, and spiritual revelation about the illness.**

**Mapuche – Literally translated, it means 'the people of the earth/land'. It is what the native Chileans call themselves.**

**Mapu – The land.**

**Mapudugan – The Mapuche native language, it can also refer to the 'language' of nature since the Mapuche believe that their language developed when they learned to decipher nature's messages to them.**

"**Mapu ta choyuei" – A phrase meaning 'we sprouted from the earth'.**

**Maqui – Fermented corn beer, a traditional Mapuche alcoholic beverage.**

**Ngenechen – The force of good, light, creation. **

**Ngulamtun – Traditional system of Mapuche education where the elders teach the young children the customs, morals, and beliefs of their people.**

**Pentukum – Ritualized visits by younger Mapuche to the homes of elder Mapuche in order to practice etiquette, speaking skills, and social behavior. Usually a child is sent as a messenger (werken) to a relative's home to deliver a speech of greeting.**

**Peuma – Dreams. The dream state where Mapuche believe that spirits of their ancestors can communicate with them.**

**Piams – Proverbs, wise sayings, aphorisms. All piams are related to nature, self reflection, and personal conduct.**

**Ruka – Traditional Mapuche home made of wood with a steeply pitched thatch roof.**

**Wekufu – The force of evil, destruction, and darkness. All misfortune in Mapuche life is attributed to the wekufu.**

**Werken – A family's messenger, sent as ambassador on a visit to a relative in order to accomplish a task and to practice etiquette and approved social behavior.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? Please leave a review and let me know.**

CHAPTER SIX

We saw Joham less frequently after that. Luisa and Ake let slip to Nahuel that he was having difficulty creating another like them. Often the women would die in his arms when he was not careful. He lacked the patience to remain with his women through their pregnancy and was not there to protect his children when the grief stricken family and friends of the dead one took their vengeance out on his progeny.

Poma eventually left the village with the other remaining families and the rukas stood abandoned in the forest. No one remained to work the looms or to boil the sumita bread in iron pots. The sounds and sights and smells of a live village came to us no more. The laughter of children playing ceased. Eventually the forest would take back what belonged to it. We only live on the land, it does not belong to us. Still, Nahuel and I could not bear to see Pire's home collapse. From time to time we replaced the sagging poles, shooed out the small animals that tried to take up residency, and re-thatched the roof.

As for Poma, we now had to travel far down dirt roads to the town where she and her daughters settled. In time Poma's grandchildren clustered about her skirts. We'd see them visiting her through the windows of her house as we watched in the shadows across the street. The towns made me uncomfortable. There were too many people and not enough trees.

Nahuel was able to pass among them. He was Mapuche and I'd taught him the pentukum greeting ritual appropriate for a young man visiting his elders. He had only to find an elderly Mapuche in a street nearby and pretend to be looking for someone from our village and soon he had news of all the families remaining, including Poma's.

Conversation is the way our people pass on our wisdom. I could no longer speak with the people of the town. I hung back, wearing a poncho and a foreigner's cowboy hat perched low over my eyes to hide their unnatural ruby hue.

I was glad of news of Poma and her little family, for they were the last of our kin since all her brother's children were dead, but I was gladder still to be back in the forested mountains when we were done. There were still villages hidden away and further on past the mountains were ranchos with Chilean ranch hands who could disappear without much notice. We fed. We survived.

The turn of the century came and went. Poma died. Illness swept through the town and her little family became smaller still. Skirts rose to indecent heights and kneecaps began to show. I stopped allowing Nahuel to come to town with me to check up on Poma's descendents. He sulked for days afterwards, but I did not have to remind him of what happened when one of the wekufu bred with a human woman. Pire's memory was ever with us.

It was 1936 in the Chilean way of counting years when I showed up across the street to find the house of Poma's last descendent, a great, great granddaughter named Inez, who lived with her mother. The house was empty, the hearth cold. There was a lingering scent of illness, but it was old and stale.

Down the street there was the smell of corn beer and other drinks with a sharper, more acidic scent. There was loud music, many people, and the scent of sweat, vomit, and urine from the alleyway out back. How easy it would be to hunt them, these foolish children who clouded their minds with too much beer then staggered home, defenseless.

I swallowed back my hunger and turned away. I'd fed not four days before. To feed again so soon would be self-indulgent. Closing my eyes as I walked at a human pace down the street, I sent my senses outward. There it was, the creak of wood against wood, the scent of another Mapuche poncho and the 'snick' of a knife. I drifted over to the next street and found an elder sitting in a wooden rocking chair on his front porch. In his hand was a block of wood. He was carving a witru, a wooden spoon, and the scent of woodchips piling up on his porch was a clean, marvelous smell.

Tipping my hat politely, as I'd seen human children do, I kept my head angled downward as I greeted him properly, asking after his family in the language of our people. When our ritual was complete, I spoke my heart.

"The family in the next street, Inez Hidalgo and her mother, where are they?"

The old man's hand faltered on the wood for a moment, then he continued shaving away at the handle of the spoon. "Mrs. Hidalgo passed away two weeks ago. Little Inez has gone off to become a nun."

"A nun?" I exclaimed. "Would no one take her in after her mother died?"

"People offered, but that girl is stubborn," the elder said with grudging approval in his voice. "She didn't want to be a burden. Had her mind made up and left for the Benedictine convent two days ago."

This was bad. I knew from the friars that came to my village long ago what nuns were and all they had to give up to become nuns.

"Where is this convent?"

He gave me directions. My spirit sank. Another journey, this time further away from Mapuche territory.

"Thank you."

The old man rose from his chair, leaving it to creak back and forth without him in it, as though it were agitated by his loss. He limped over to the edge of the porch and held out the spoon.

"Here, take it."

I hesitated, then closed my hand around it.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking care not to look up at him. He would not give me such a gift if he knew what I truly was. "I do not deserve it," I told him honestly.

"If you don't want it, give it to the girl when you find her," he returned gruffly. Then he went back to his chair to pick up another block of wood and began carving another spoon.

The smell of wood chips followed me as I walked away.

o-o-o

I ran down the road the old one recommended, trees and houses flying past. I slowed through the towns, pausing to feed off a fellow traveler at dusk the next day. He was a vagrant off to find work in the next town. The tang of alcohol was in his blood, matching the smell of it on his clothes and body. I do not think he would have found work even if he'd made it to his destination. I buried the body and continued, reaching the convent at dawn. It was already alive with activity and I was forced to watch over the walls, crouched in the branches of a tree just outside the convent precincts.

Darkness fell, the evening meal was consumed, and the women all gathered in a large building to sing in a strange musical language and pray to their God. They drifted to their rooms afterward. Among the scents was the smell unique to Inez.

Dropping from the tree and then vaulting over the wall, I skirted the outside of the building where her scent was until I came to her window.

It was on the ground floor. The windows on the other side of hers were dark. Lamplight flickered inside her room. By the smell I guessed it was a kerosene lamp. There were no electric fixtures as I'd seen in town in the bigger buildings. The evening was warm and she'd left her window wide open.

I jumped, perching for a moment on her windowsill. It was a tight fit and the wood frame cracked with my weight. Jumping down, I landed in a crouch on the stone floor. The room was very plain with only a bed, a table for the lamp, and a chest for her belongings. The walls were bare of any adornment save two sticks of wood crossed and nailed to a wall.

Inez was kneeling by the chest, placing clothing inside. She wore a long white gown for sleeping. Her hair was short, the ends barely brushing the back of her neck.

Startled by the crack of the wooden window frame, she whirled, coming to her feet in that clumsy way humans had, her folded skirt still in hand.

I rose to my feet slowly so as not to frighten her. As I did so my hat, already tilted askew by its brush with the window frame, came off. My braid fell down my back. I saw her eyes flick towards it, saw her realization that I was female rather than male.

Relief made her features sag slightly. They tightened again when her eyes reached my face. She staggered back, clutching her skirt to her chest. The back of her calf hit the edge of the chest and she fell back against the wall with a thump. I could smell a trickle of blood making its way down her leg, enticingly raw, permeating the small room.

I swallowed. I was not here to feed.

"D…demon," she gasped in Spanish. She stared at my eyes, her gasps gaining in force and she opened her mouth to scream.

Quickly but carefully, oh so very carefully, I sprang at her, placing my hand over her mouth. Remembering what happened with Cedric, I left space between her nose and the edge of my forefinger.

She squirmed and made noises, but could not break free, not with my right hand against her mouth and my left forearm pinning her shoulders to the wall. I stood close enough that she was not able to kick effectively.

I am patient. I waited until the struggles ceased and the panic turned to resignation. When I was sure she would not scream anymore I stepped back, lowering my hands to my sides. Without my proximity to hold the skirt between us, it fell from her hand, the careful folds lost in a jumble of fabric on the floor at her feet.

"You, you're a demon," Inez whispered. "How? How did you get into the convent?"

She was pale, shaken. She had Poma's nose and chin, but not her irrepressibly bubbly nature.

"I am no demon," I corrected her. I knew of demons and angels from the friars. It was silly to think of evil and hell residing in the center of the earth when everyone knew evil came from the West where the sun sets and the spirits of the dead go when they die. The North was bad too, bearing the winds that chill the land of the Mapuche, but the West was worse. I did not come from the center of the earth. I was wekufu, not demon.

"I am Huilen."

The name meant nothing to her. She stared at me blankly.

"I am your great grandmother's cousin."

A spark of recognition came into her eyes. She shook her head slowly, denying it.

"No, that can't be. It's a story, just a story like the tale of the fox and the frog."

So, Inez's grandmother did her duty and educated Inez in the way of her people and the lore of her family. After the first generation of Poma's children died, I'd heard only Spanish coming from their house, and talk of modern things which I did not understand.

"What did you hear?"

Inez licked her lips and glanced at the door to the hall outside, but made no move towards it. She'd seen how fast I was when I covered her mouth and knew she'd never reach it.

"Grandmother said that great grandma Poma was nearly dragged away by an evil spirit disguised as a man, but the spirit of her cousin Huilen came and saved her."

"It is so," I confirmed. Nahuel was evil, but then again so was I.

"But how? Why? Why are you here?"

Brushing off questions about the past, I answered the question that was more important to both of us.

"I am here to stop you from doing this thing."

Inez blinked. "You mean taking my vows?"

"If taking vows means walling yourself up away from the land to become a nun, then yes."

Inez blinked rapidly. "But why would you care what I do?" she asked desperately. "Why should it matter to you?"

"You are family," I told her fiercely. "You are Mapuche, and I have watched over you, your mother, your grandmother, and little Poma. I have seen your aunts and uncles die and you are the last of my kin. I will not allow you to remove yourself from life. You will leave here, marry, and bear sons and daughters. You will not die alone."

I found that I'd clenched my fists as I spoke. My voice had risen as well, and Inez cringed back against the wall.

Ashamed, I stepped back a pace. "You must leave here," I told her more quietly.

She shivered, but gradually straightened her spine so that she was standing next to the wall rather than leaning against it.

"You watched us?"

I nodded.

"All the time?" her voice squeaked out.

"No, every few years. My home is in the mountains, not among the Spanish."

I used the Mapuche word for the pale skinned strangers from Spain. It was 'huinca' which means thief. Inez's mother had married one. Though they called themselves 'Chileans' now, they would always be huinca to me for they'd stolen away the people of my village, taking them away from the land where they belonged.

Inez bit her lower lip and clasped her hands together nervously. "Then if you've been watching you must know that mother is dead."

I nodded slowly.

"Then you know too that I have nowhere to go."

"That is not true," I corrected her. "You can come back with me to the village."

Already in my mind I was making plans to bring more bedding into the ruka Nahuel and I maintained in the old village. I did not need sleep, and Nahuel needed less now that he'd grown up, but when we slept in the ruka he slept on bedding as Pire and I had done in the old days.

We could hunt for Inez as well as ourselves, and I remembered how to cook. It would work.

"No."

Inez's quiet word broke apart my thoughts.

"Yes." I contradicted her firmly.

"I can't go with you. That's not my life. I can't live like that and I don't want to."

"You would deny your duty to your family?" I asked. That always worked on Nahuel, but Inez was no Nahuel.

"I have a higher duty to God."

Her face shone with a quiet determination that I found disturbing. I'd have to resort to threats.

"Then I should just kill you, for you are useless to me."

My words reminded me of the blood on Inez's leg. The cut no longer seeped, but even dried blood has a smell to it that is hard to resist.

Inez blanched, then lowered herself to her knees and placed her hands together, closing her eyes and moving her lips in words I could not hear.

"What are you doing?"

I knew it was called 'praying', I just did not know why she was doing it now.

She stopped, opened her eyes, and looked at me with such a look. Sadness, fear, and amazingly, a gentle sort of compassion all mixed together in her brown eyes.

"I am preparing myself for death."

I dropped to my knees as well, baffled by her response.

"If you do not want to die, just do as I say," I told her. Why couldn't she be reasonable about it?

"I can't."

Slowly Inez lowered her hands until they were clasped loosely in front of her. She squeezed them together as she spoke.

"I don't expect you to understand. How could you? I'm not really even sure what you are. But please, try. Try to understand that I'm happy to be here. I want to be here. This is where I belong. I want to give my life to God, and to do that I must say goodbye to my old life and my old world."

She sank back on her haunches, keeping her eyes bravely on my face, staring straight into my blood-hued eyes.

"If you are not going to kill me, you must go away and never come back. Stop watching over me. I'm in God's hands now whether you kill me or not."

Without quite knowing how it had happened, I was defeated. The conviction on her face wasn't something I could change. Cedric's words about freedom came to me then, and as I looked into the eyes of the last of my human kin I realized that this place meant freedom to her.

I gazed at her a moment longer, then I turned without another word and dove through the open window, rolling as I hit the ground.

I got to my feet, ran two paces for momentum, and leapt over the convent walls, reaching the tree line in seconds.

I'd left my hat on the floor of Inez's room without regret. I would come no more to walk among the humans of the towns. I turned my face towards the mountains where Nahuel waited for me.

He was my only remaining family now.

o-o-o

I gave Nahuel the spoon the old man gave me when I went to find Inez. I told him that Inez and her mother were gone. Something in my face must have warned him not to ask questions, for he did not badger me for details. In fact, he went out of his way to be accommodating.

Joham visited again, his mood beneath that smiling façade of his growing darker and darker each time until one day he showed up with a girl.

She was beautiful and just on the cusp of womanhood. Her hair was the dark ebony of Ake's, but fuller and thicker than Ake's long straight curtain of hair. Olive complexioned, with large brown eyes containing flecks of lighter gold that proved her half human heritage, she clung to her sisters' hands when Joham brought her to meet us.

Their clothing was different again, more like the clothing of the male vaqueros with dark blue pants and bright shirts tucked into them. They wore silver jewelry that fell down their chests like waterfalls, glinting in the sun.

"Maria, meet your brother, Nahuel," Joham ordered.

The girl child stepped forward after receiving reassuring looks from her sisters.

I noticed that Joham did not mention me, as though I were completely irrelevant. His attention was all for Nahuel and Maria.

Nahuel greeted Maria politely in Spanish. It was clear he admired her, but he stayed wary. Joham watched and listened to them with an avid regard that unnerved me.

When he suggested that Nahuel and Maria go gather fruit together to get to know each other better my first impulse was to say no, but I did not want to anger Joham. I considered him dangerous, especially now that his family outnumbered us even more. So I agreed and sent Nahuel off with his newest sister.

My nephew threw me a questioning backward glance, but went willingly. Luisa and Ake trailed along behind, their eyes on their sister.

"So, what do you think of Maria?" asked Joham. He leaned nonchalantly against a maqui tree.

"She is pretty," I said cautiously.

"She is exquisite," he corrected, then smiled disarmingly. "Her name is quite plebeian, but her birth mother insisted, or so Ake claims. I left her to monitor the birth. Ake started calling her Maria and the name stuck. I'm a slave to the whims of my children," he laughed. He was always laughing or grinning, always trying to charm.

"Ake saw the birth?" I repeated slowly.

Against my will, images of Pire's final moments flooded into my mind. Some of my memories before my change were fuzzier, but those particular images never faded.

"Yes, she turned out to be quite the little midwife, and of course she had the added benefit of feasting a bit on the mother before turning her over to Maria. I've been trying to keep her human tastes in food alive, the better to blend in, you know, but Maria much prefers human blood as do Luisa and Ake."

I felt sickened by the image of the pretty child gorging herself on her own mother's blood. I'd dragged myself into the forest soon after Nahuel bit me, so I did not see if he drank Pire's blood or not. The possibility and the image of it trickled through my brain and stubbornly refused to go away. Not for the first time, I cursed my memory.

Joham watched me with a satisfied gleam in his eye. I longed to rip that smile off his face with my fingernails. I curled my fingers into my palms instead and stared back silently. I would not show my true self to him. I would not give him the satisfaction.

He talked on and on of Maria, how fast she'd grown, how wonderful it was to watch her develop. He threw in questions about Nahuel, as though comparing them to see which was superior. He stayed talking to me until the sun faded over the foothills and subsided into the land of the dead.

He never spoke to his daughters in English that time, so I learned nothing he did not wish me to know.

He asked if we would hunt with them the next day, but I refused, remembering his questions. I did not want him comparing Nahuel's hunting skills to Maria's. I no longer wished to see the seemingly shy child who Joham bragged was as vicious as a snake and twice as fast. Nahuel seemed happy enough when he left with his sisters, and I was afraid that when we were alone he would protest my decision to refuse the hunt.

He surprised me by heaving a sigh of relief when they'd gone.

"Let's go back to the ruka," he suggested.

I agreed gladly. Joham's presence always made me feel as if I needed a bath and the river near the village had a perfect spot for bathing.

Nahuel was quiet as we ran back. I thought he was tired, but after we bathed in the dark, he on the upper bend where the water was calmer, and I in the rougher currents of the lower bend, he wanted to talk.

"Auntie Huilen, tell me again how my mother died," he asked solemnly as he stared at me across the fire pit inside the ruka.

I shuddered inside, the image wrought by Joham's suggestion fresh in my mind, but I complied.

He was quiet again when I finished the story, eyes focused on the glowing embers.

"I shall never have children," he burst out suddenly. He raised his eyes to mine. They were full of anger. "I promise you, I will never do that to a woman."

I stared back, fighting to keep my expression neutral. We had never talked of such a possibility before. Nahuel knew how babies were made. You could not live in a forest among animals and not see things, things which I'd explained long ago.

He knew the story of his own birth as well. After the incident with Cedric, I'd sat down with Nahuel and explained why I could never be with a human man. Now that I was a part of the wekufu, my lot was death and destruction, the opposite of life and creation. I wanted to ease his mind and stop his groundless fears that I would abandon him to go off as human women did to start a family.

Every young married couple of the Mapuche stayed with the man's parents only for as long as it took them to build their own ruka. Nahuel knew this, and must have thought that one day I would want that sort of life for myself. He agreed adamantly with my reasoning and I thought he'd settled his mind long ago to remain at my side. We were both cursed after all, the curse differing only in degree.

"Why do you tell me this now?" I asked at last.

Nahuel looked away.

"I heard them talking in English. Luisa and Ake. They were watching Maria and I. Joham plans to…breed us when Maria is older."

He looked back at me, disgust twisting his features. "Joham already tried impregnating Luisa and Ake himself, but nothing happened. So now he wants to see if we, that is, if Maria and I…" he trailed off, embarrassed.

'I will kill Joham,' I vowed silently. For coming up with a plan this sick, he had to die. I could not love my nephew. What has a creature such as I to do with love? But I swore to Pire I would look out for him and protect him.

"You will not go off alone with your sisters again," I said sharply. "I will stay with you from now on. She shall not touch you."

Nahuel poked the coals with a stick unhappily.

"It is not Maria's fault," he told me. "She'd be…nice if not for Joham."

"Nice?" I repeated, striving to keep incredulity from my voice. Joham had reveled in telling me of Maria's cruelty towards her prey.

"Joham's words come out of her mouth," Nahuel shrugged. "His thoughts are in her head. Luisa is the same way. I can't tell about Ake. If only Joham were gone they'd all be better off."

Nahuel threw the stick in the fire and got up.

"I'm tired," he said. I want to sleep."

He went over to his pile of bedding, but his heart and breathing did not slow into the gentle rhythms of sleep for a long time afterward.

I stared into the dying fire and began to make plans. Joham must die. In another ten or twenty years when he came around for his next visit, I would be ready for him.

To Be Continued…

**A/N: To help with unfamiliar Mapudugan words, here's a glossary:**

**Ad mapu - The guidelines for Mapuche life and morals. 'Ad' means customs, traditions, the way things should be. 'Mapu' means land.**

**Epew – Literally translated, it means 'almost seeing oneself'. The Epew are stories of the past, both historical events and legends, that reinforce the Mapuche view of the world.**

**Kalku – A shamaness who is evil, a sorceress.**

**Libisomem – A Portuguese term, not a Mapuche word, it refers to a werewolf, usually the seventh son of a family. Meyer erroneously attributed the Libisomem (which she spelled 'Libishomen') to the Mapuche as well as the Brazilians, but it's primarily a Brazilian/Portuguese legend. **

**Macana – A mace, a stick-like weapon with a bulbous end, made from stone or wood.**

**Machi – A shaman, usually a woman who mediates between the natural and spiritual worlds.**

**Machitun – The mapuche healing ritual conducted by the Machi (shamaness) consisting of diagnosis, expulsion, and spiritual revelation about the illness.**

**Mapuche – Literally translated, it means 'the people of the earth/land'. It is what the native Chileans call themselves.**

**Mapu – The land.**

**Mapudugan – The Mapuche native language, it can also refer to the 'language' of nature since the Mapuche believe that their language developed when they learned to decipher nature's messages to them.**

"**Mapu ta choyuei" – A phrase meaning 'we sprouted from the earth'.**

**Maqui – Fermented corn beer, a traditional Mapuche alcoholic beverage.**

**Ngenechen – The force of good, light, creation. **

**Ngulamtun – Traditional system of Mapuche education where the elders teach the young children the customs, morals, and beliefs of their people.**

**Pentukum – Ritualized visits by younger Mapuche to the homes of elder Mapuche in order to practice etiquette, speaking skills, and social behavior. Usually a child is sent as a messenger (werken) to a relative's home to deliver a speech of greeting.**

**Peuma – Dreams. The dream state where Mapuche believe that spirits of their ancestors can communicate with them.**

**Piams – Proverbs, wise sayings, aphorisms. All piams are related to nature, self reflection, and personal conduct.**

**Ruka – Traditional Mapuche home made of wood with a steeply pitched thatch roof.**

**Wekufu – The force of evil, destruction, and darkness. All misfortune in Mapuche life is attributed to the wekufu.**

**Werken – A family's messenger, sent as ambassador on a visit to a relative in order to accomplish a task and to practice etiquette and approved social behavior.**

**Witru – A spoon carved of wood.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? Please review and let me know.**

CHAPTER SEVEN

My plans to kill Joham came to nothing, for before he showed up again, they came.

I sensed them, heard them really, from around the mountain. They were like me, like Joham, not like Nahuel or his sisters. My heart thrilled with fear. There were three of them against the two of us. Had Joham sent them to kill me and collect Nahuel so he could have my nephew all to himself?

"Nahuel! Come!" I shouted.

Then I ran.

Though he was across the river from me, Nahuel dove through it and was at my side in an instant. He did not question, he followed me even though he could not hear them at first.

He heard them soon enough for they gained on us. They were fast, faster than Nahuel. Hampered by his presence, I knew I could not outrun them. I led them deeper into the forest, across rocky gorges I'd traveled before, ones with unstable footing and brittle, pitted surfaces. Nahuel followed in my footsteps and I chose only the rocks I knew would hold our weight. The three following us slowed, but not for long.

I called up memories of all the alternate paths that lay before us, choosing the ones that seemed most likely to stymie our hunters. This is how I thought of them. They were the hunters and we were the prey.

I was not afraid to die. I would not tamely hand Nahuel over to Joham to be consumed by his evil, not without a fight. I thought we'd lost them when I led Nahuel through a field of volcanic vents where boiling mud oozed up to the surface and the stench of rotting eggs disguises all other smells.

They followed. They came through the field more slowly, but they remained on our trail.

Nahuel began to tire. He and I had not fed in several days and the hunger was beginning to grow. It was a slight edge in our mouths and throats rather than an all-encompassing need, but it was there.

We would have to stand and fight. I came to a stop in a clearing by a small waterfall. Nahuel nearly overshot me. Grabbing onto his arm, I took advantage of his momentum and shoved him under the waterfall into the small depression I knew was behind it. I poked my head through the curtain of water to speak with him.

"Stay quiet," I hissed at him.

Then I pulled out of the water and jumped high into the branches of a tree.

"We mean you no harm," a voice called out faintly in English. "Just remember that!"

The voice was light, clear, and female. The end of the last sentence was louder than the beginning of the first. They were getting closer.

Two of them lagged behind, their footsteps fainter than that of the one leading the way. That one ran unerringly into the clearing where I waited.

I ignored the English words. They threatened Pire's son. It was time to fight.

The woman ran into the clearing with her chin lifted, looking up at the trees as though she already knew I was there even though I'd made sure to be downwind.

I sprang upon her just as she opened her mouth to speak. The sound of our impact frightened the birds from the trees and they flew away shrieking their anger and fear to the skies.

I'd hoped to knock her to the ground, but all I did was make her stagger. She was impossibly tall; even her face seemed long and her hair stuck out all over.

She regarded me with the calm concentration of a warrior who takes battle seriously. Quickly regaining her footing, she shoved me off and stood at the ready.

I snarled and attacked, was repulsed, and attacked again. I circled the giant, pretending to stumble, leaving her an opening. She did not take it.

Frustrated, I went on the offensive again, my fingers scrabbling against her hard skin. She tried to grab at me but I slipped away.

This was much different than subduing human prey. I struck a blow across her side that had her gasping, but she twisted midair as she fell, bringing her long legs around to sweep mine out from under me. Then we both were on the ground, rolling through the dirt, clawing at each other.

I aimed for her eyes and neck. She struck my hands away and elbowed me in the chest. We rolled again and she managed to get behind me, her forearm around my neck, her other hand shoving my face into the grass and dirt by the back of my head while her body pinned the rest of me to the ground.

Her limbs were so much longer than mine that I was covered completely. I could not move. I didn't have to breathe, so I kept my mouth closed against the dirt, but in that position I could not see.

I bucked wildly, trying to get her off of me, but she was heavier. My hands scored deeply, uselessly, into the ground. I could not dislodge her.

I heard footsteps, one set light and the other heavier, more deliberate. It was a man and a woman. They walked into the clearing and came to stand next to where the tall woman had me pinned to the dirt.

"Don't hurt him," the woman said in English. It was the same voice as before.

"I won't," came a man's voice, deeper, confident.

Hurt who? I wanted to ask, to pretend I didn't know who they sought, but my face remained in the soil, blind and mute.

Surely Nahuel was not peeping out from behind the waterfall. Surely they could not see him. He would not disobey me. He never had before.

But as I listened I could hear, as I knew they could, the faint beat of Nahuel's heart from behind the noise of the rushing water.

My heart sank within me a moment later as I heard Nahuel's war cry, and the splashing of parted waters as he hurled himself at the vampires.

They'd seen him.

I let my body go limp. Nahuel revealed himself to them. He was a hybrid who was weaker than one fully accursed. He would be killed or more likely captured and brought to Joham. I was already helpless.

I'd failed Pire. All was lost.

As I waited for the end, I thought of Inez. My great grand niece had prayed to her God with such certainty. I had no such faith. As one of the wekufu I was already cursed. What was there for me after death?

I steeled myself and waited to die.

o-o-o

"So you see," Alice said as she sat cross-legged by the fire. "That's why we need you to come with us."

Her story was fantastical. There were more of the accursed, many more besides Joham. There were whole tribes of them living far north of here. That part made sense since the north, like the west, was an evil direction. It's where fierce winter storms come from. I had a feeling that Alice, for all her child-like frame, could be as fierce as a storm if denied her way.

She and the male, Jasper, came from a tribe that was about to go to war with another tribe called the Volturi. Kachiri, the tall woman who'd defeated me, was allied with Alice's tribe, the Cullens. Alice had seen Nahuel and I in a dream and from what I gathered it was the spirits who told her our presence was necessary for the battle.

So she, Jasper, and Kachiri came looking for us. I nodded approvingly at that. Though she was not a machi like grandmother, I knew that Alice had the ability to become a powerful shamaness to see such visions from the spirits that clearly.

After Jasper subdued Nahuel, Alice spoke to us until we agreed not to resist anymore. We agreed mainly because it was clear that resistance was utterly useless, not because we trusted her words.

She was persistent though, insisting that we bathe and wash our clothes and that we both wrap ourselves in strangely woven 'towels' that she brought in a sack on her back while our clothes dried.

Kachiri had not been ground into the watery dirt by the pool, and did not need to clean the leather clothing she wore.

Jasper made a campfire. As we sat around it while our clothes were left to dry on bushes, I realized how deftly we'd been manipulated into hearing Alice's story. The cleverness of it reminded me uncomfortably of Joham, yet there seemed to be no cruelty in Alice's eyes.

Her eyes, like Jasper's, were the color of the sun at dusk as it slips through the clouds. I found myself mesmerized by them as she spoke.

Her story done, Alice looked at us expectantly. I was very aware of Kachiri sitting close to Alice and Jasper. She was across the fire from Nahuel and I, but could be up and over it in an instant should we try to escape. The memory of my face pressed into the dirt would not leave me.

If the spirits decreed that we should go, how could we disobey? If Kachiri and the others used force to subdue us, we would have no choice but to go with them.

Yet how could I risk Pire's son? I glanced over at him, the question in my eyes.

"I think we should go, Auntie Huilen," he said at once.

His face was calm, confident, and his eyes were alive with excitement. I remembered how eager he'd been to fight with the Mapuche alliance against the Chilean government. My arguments that we were wekufu and thus should not lend our strength to a human struggle no longer applied here, for it was the accursed fighting the accursed this time.

I shrugged my shoulders in defeat. I knew too that the child Alice spoke of, Renesme, had sparked Nahuel's curiosity as well. Apart from his sisters, Renesme was the only other one of his kind.

"We will go with you," I told Alice reluctantly.

This would mean leaving Mapuche territory, fighting others of the wekufu. After my encounter with Kachiri I had serious doubts about my fighting ability. She'd seemed to know where I was hiding and what I planned to do before I did it. The best I would probably manage in the coming war would be to throw myself in front of Nahuel and delay the attack for a few moments if he were threatened by another vampire. We would die together, doing something Nahuel believed in.

"I knew you would!" squealed Alice.

She surprised me by leaping across the fire to throw her arms around my neck. I stiffened and felt Nahuel tense up beside me for an instant until we both realized that she was giving me a hug, the way a small child would its mother.

My arms were hampered by the towel wrapped around me and I could do nothing but sit still and accept it.

It was Nahuel's turn next as she flitted quickly over to him and enveloped him in her arms as well, then darted back to Jasper's side.

I watched him carefully, for Alice had said they were mated with each other, a thought I found disturbing despite the obvious affection between them.

Jasper merely smiled indulgently, while Nahuel turned bright red.

And that is how we found ourselves traveling northward with Alice, Jasper, and Kachiri.

o-o-o

We ran through the mountains, and along the seas of pampas grass, through long flat expanses where cows roamed free. We bypassed Yaghuen territory. I had not seen any of them in years. Perhaps they'd died out. So many humans died, leaving only Nahuel and I to remember them. Perhaps it was our turn to die in the great battle to come.

At last we came to the very edge of Mapuche territory and all that was familiar to me was gone. Silently, I bid the new land hello, asking permission to cross it and calling on the spirits that dwelled in it for protection for our traveling party.

As always, the spirits were silent.

I felt lost.

Though I knew I could find my way back home easily, for even as a child I'd always been able to do so no matter how far I roamed, the sense of being away from Mapuche territory dislocated something within my spirit.

On we ran, through steaming jungles where vines and leaves wove themselves together overhead like the thatched roof of a ruka. Kachiri seemed most at home here.

We took rest breaks for Nahuel's sake. Alice seemed to know when he needed to sleep.

On one such break, Alice and Jasper went off to hunt, leaving me alone with Kachiri. Nahuel was curled up on a bed of moss heavy with pink and white flowers that Kachiri called 'orchids' that edged the mass of a fallen log.

Kachiri promised to take us hunting for human prey before we left her land. Alice and Jasper lived off animal blood, which is why the blood color had drained from their eyes, leaving behind a golden hue.

She came and sat by me as I stood watch over Nahuel, speaking softly to avoid waking him. I no longer feared that she would attack me, for Alice made it clear that they needed us too much to kill us. After the battle however…

"He is a beautiful child," Kachiri observed.

I nodded though Nahuel was fully grown and a child no longer. In his sleep he looked younger than his years, though only an older vampire cursed by the wekufu to live centuries long would call him a child.

"It is odd to hear a heartbeat," she mused. "He is nearly as strong as us, yet he breathes."

She watched the rise and fall of Nahuel's chest as though it were something wonderful.

I shrugged. I'd grown used to it, used to the flow of blood through his veins as well. His blood did not call out to me as did the blood of our prey. I glanced suspiciously at Kachiri. Did his blood call out to her?

She sensed my regard and turned her long face to look at me.

"You still have not forgiven me for the clearing."

She was so tall and I so short in comparison. Even sitting down as we were, the difference between us was immense. Among the Mapuche I was average-sized, yet sitting next to Kachiri I felt the size of a child.

I shrugged again and stared down at Nahuel, hearing her sigh beside me.

"You did well against me. I was hard pressed to grasp you. You are much more slippery than my sisters," she said.

It was a lie of course. I'd been easily subdued by her, having lost the element of surprise early on. Had I still breathed I would have snorted in derision.

Kachiri's hands came up and grasped my shoulders, gently forcing me to face her. I did so reluctantly. To struggle now would be to wake Nahuel. With Alice and Jasper gone, we were speaking in Spanish, a language not our own but more familiar to us than English.

"Little sister, I would not have this lying between us. Please, speak to me."

I hesitated, but as I looked into her burgundy eyes I saw no scorn. There was something that had been bothering me. I would speak my heart.

"How did you know where I was hiding? The winds were away from you. You should not have been able to scent me and the water sound must have masked the swaying of the branch I was on, yet your eyes were upon me the minute you stepped into the clearing."

I'd prided myself on my enhanced hunting skills, on my ability to think, to map out, and plan. On the rare occasions in winter when Nahuel and I were forced to hunt animals since all the humans were huddled inside in groups, I'd always outsmarted them. Kachiri's ability to see through my ambush stung.

"That?" Kachiri laughed softly. "I didn't know. Alice told me."

"Alice?" I repeated anxiously.

Kachiri dropped her hands now that she saw I was listening.

"Alice has a gift. She sees into the future. She knew where you'd be hiding and told me as we ran."

My world seemed to upend itself as I stared. To know the future? To see what would be? I had never heard of a machi with such power or even a kalku for that matter. Such a power in the hands of a kalku would be a disaster.

"It's hard to get used to, I know," Kachiri said sympathetically. "I only tell you this so you will know how important you are. Alice says that you and Nahuel," she gestured towards his sleeping form, "will help win our battle against the Volturi." Kachiri's face grew stern. "We must win, or all that we love is lost."

Once again she made me tell the tale of Pire's death, in English.

"You'll do," Kachiri smiled at me when I finished. "You are a good ally, little sister."

I nodded at her words but did not believe them. It was clear to me that I was being brought to a foreign land to tell a tale and not to fight at all. I was no battle partner. I'd thought of myself as invulnerable, and compared to Nahuel and humankind I was. Then came Joham with not one but two and later three such as Nahuel. Joham had years of experience and killer instincts, and I knew I could not win against him in fair combat. Now there were Kachiri, Alice, and Jasper. I would never forget the feeling of being overpowered by Kachiri, pressed flat into the dirt, blind and unable to move. And now we were going to where her sisters waited, where more of the wekufu spawned were.

My spirit quailed, but I did not show it on my face. For all Kachiri's kindness and willingness to name me sister, she was not Mapuche. I would keep my fears hidden.

o-o-o

I failed.

When we ran into the snowy clearing by the Cullens' hunting grounds, I could not keep my eyes from frantically counting all the vampires around me. There were so many of them. Vast numbers of the accursed Volturi stood all around, exuding power and threat. I feared the ones Alice led us to as well, for they were strangers to me.

Some of them touched her in greeting, a young couple and an older one. They watched us curiously, but I could not keep my eyes on them. There were so many other new threats, possible enemies. The ones on our side of the meadow were also strange, unknown entities. They varied in size and color. None were Mapuche. Then there were the werewolves Alice warned us about, in a way even more frightening for I'd never seen wolves that large.

The man of the younger couple spoke across the empty ground to the leader on the other side. He told him Alice had brought us. 'Witnesses' he called us.

Alice led us forward. Snow bled into a crevice bisecting the meadow, so we did not cross all the way to the Volturi tribe.

She introduced us and the leader bid me speak. I glanced at Alice. Was this really what she wanted?

Alice nodded and I could feel Kachiri's reassuring hand come to rest on my shoulder.

I spoke of Pire, of how she'd been seduced, how she'd fled the village only to die at the hands of Nahuel who clawed his way out of her belly. I told them that Nahuel bit me, changed me, and why I stayed with him. I blamed our presence here on Nahuel's wish to see the child, Renesme.

I could not bear to look at Nahuel, knowing I'd taken the coward's way out in blaming him. I'd agreed to come as well, but with all of the vampires around me, I bitterly regretted ever leaving the forest.

Averting my gaze to my feet, I retreated behind Kachiri.

The Volturi leader spoke to Nahuel, asked questions like those Joham asked. Nahuel answered with confidence. His English was always better than mine. When he mentioned his sisters I could hear the vampires' shocked reaction. Nahuel spoke of Joham, and his plan to create a hybrid race of vampires.

The Volturi's attention turned from us to the couple standing behind us. One of them suggested killing the child, Renesme, but the other disagreed.

Frowning, the leader's companion brought up Joham.

"Perhaps we should speak with him."

The leader agreed. I heard the implicit threat in his voice and was fiercely glad. Let Joham be the one outnumbered by this frightening mass of bodies.

"Stop Joham if you will, but leave my sisters be. They are innocent," objected Nahuel.

I tensed. Was Nahuel trying to draw the attention of these ancient, powerful beings? It was like poking a jungle cat with a stick. I braced myself for their retaliation.

Instead the Volturi nodded thoughtfully. He called off the battle and tried to make peace with the Cullen tribe's leader. Their words in return were polite but wary, and then the Volturi were gone.

Alice laughed with another on the Cullen side and reassured everyone the Volturi were gone for good.

Then it happened. They all went crazy, howling, shouting, and embracing with such fervor that I jerked in surprise and it was all I could do not to run away.

I think I would have run if the Cullen leader, Carlisle, had not come to speak to us, thanking first Nahuel then me for coming. I nodded distractedly, allowing Nahuel to do the talking.

It had been years since I'd lived in a village and the proximity of all the vampires, not to mention the foul smelling wolves spread out around them, kept me from relaxing. Kachiri returned to her two sisters, both tall like her.

The younger Cullen couple went to retrieve their child from the back of a large wolf. I did not know how they could stand the stench of him, but the girl didn't seem to mind.

Gradually the noise died down. Goodbyes were said. I stood a ways apart, but Nahuel remained by the Cullens, watching avidly. I came to realize that many of the vampires who'd stood with the Cullens were allies who lived afar off, and that only the older couple, the younger one with the child, Alice, Jasper, and one other couple constituted the whole of their tribe.

"We're going now," Kachiri came to tell me. Her sisters waited for her at the edge of the trees.

'Take me with you,' I longed to say. I wished desperately to be away from this place, but one look at Nahuel's eager face as he watched the Cullens bid their friends farewell, and I knew we'd be staying.

"May the spirits guide your journey," I said instead.

Kachiri gave me a curious glance and a smile, then loped away, her sisters breaking into a run as she reached them. They disappeared into the trees and were gone, the sound of their footsteps fading soon afterward. Kachiri and her sisters were fast as well as strong, and their long legs made short work of distances.

When at last it was just the Cullens left they led us to their home. Alice skipped ahead, Jasper trailing behind her more sedately. I almost suggested that Nahuel and I remain outside since the cold didn't bother him much, but the stench of werewolves was all around the house. One of them followed us inside, changing into his human form. Even as a human, the scent he gave off was still horrid.

We sat in the central room. Their fire was in a stone hearth and Nahuel took a seat beside it. I sat on a long cushioned bench at his side while the others settled as well. I fisted my hands, burying them in my skirts, and sat motionless, letting the conversation ebb and flow around me. I concentrated on putting names to faces.

The Cullens all spoke and laughed familiarly. They were a true family, completely at ease with one another. Even the werewolf, Jacob, lounged at his ease on the floor near Bella, Edward, and their child. Alice sat tucked under Edward's arm with Jasper nearby.

The golden haired one, Rosalie, was curled up in a chair near her mate, Emmett, and her mother, Esme.

Carlisle came to sit beside me. I gave him a quick glance out of the corner of my eyes, hoping that he would ignore me and join his family's conversation, but it was not to be.

He asked endless questions about Nahuel, his growth, development, and the way his body changed over time. I tuned the others out and concentrated on answering him. Nahuel would tell me later what they'd said. He was staring at Bella and her child with intense interest.

Carlisle was fascinated by every detail I could give him about Nahuel. He also tried to ask about Pire's death, but when my answers became brusque he changed the subject and we talked of Mapuche territory and how Nahuel and I survived in it.

Alice's laughter filled the room. It tinkled like bells on a wind chime I'd heard in town. Carlisle glanced up from our conversation and smiled fondly. Alice said something to Bella about being a superhero and Bella hid her face behind her daughter's hair.

Her mate, Edward, continued to talk, and Carlisle returned to his conversation with me. All the while I was aware of Nahuel's fascination with Bella and her child. I wanted to reprimand him, but could not do so in front of strangers. Nahuel proved himself a man today. He was confident, fearless, and ready to fight in the meadow. Grudgingly, I admitted that he did not deserve to be scolded like a child for staring. I would speak to him later.

Jacob left and soon after Bella and Edward took their child with them. They had their own hut a short distance away. Nahuel stayed by my side, but his eyes followed them longingly. I knew of course that Renesme was the only other half human half vampire besides Nahuel and his sisters, but I could not understand his obsession with her.

She was still far too young for courtship. I knew also from Carlisle's questions, that the sole reason for his interest in my stories of Nahuel was his concern over his tribe's hybrid child. He worried about her unnatural growth rate. Nahuel also seemed fixated on her.

Soon after Bella and Edward departed, Rosalie and Emmett retreated to their room. I did not need the memory of their heated kiss in the meadow during the Cullen side's celebration to know why they required privacy. The looks they were casting one another were proof enough.

When Alice stood and pulled Jasper to his feet, I stood as well.

"Nahuel requires rest," I reminded Carlisle.

He got to his feet, his wife coming to stand beside him. Nahuel, who'd been stifling yawns for some time, did not protest.

"We've a guest room down the hall," Esme smiled. She led us to it, walking with graceful confidence, and opening the door to the room with a gentle push.

She left us at the door after I refused her offer of separate rooms. Nahuel sank down on the tall bedding with a sigh. I thought he'd be asleep in moments. He surprised me.

"Auntie Huilen?"

"Yes?" I settled myself on the floor with my back to the wall to stand watch as he slept.

"Do you think mother would have survived if Joham had been there to change her when I was born?"

I stilled. So that was it. Nahuel's fascination with Bella and Renesmee was nothing more than idle wondering about things that could not be changed.

"No," I said resolutely. "Joham is wekufu. He cared not for Pire. He used her body to get what he wanted and that is all. Had she survived, he probably would have just killed her himself," I finished darkly, leaving unspoken my thought that Joham would have used Pire as Nahuel's first meal.

Nahuel did not remember much of what happened those first few days after he was born. To suggest now that he'd fed off his mother of his own free will would serve no purpose.

Nahuel sighed. "I suppose you are right."

"Do not think of it anymore," I counseled him.

His only answer was a sleepy sigh, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

To Be Continued…

**A/N: To help with unfamiliar Mapudugan words, here's a glossary:**

**Ad mapu - The guidelines for Mapuche life and morals. 'Ad' means customs, traditions, the way things should be. 'Mapu' means land.**

**Epew – Literally translated, it means 'almost seeing oneself'. The Epew are stories of the past, both historical events and legends, that reinforce the Mapuche view of the world.**

**Kalku – A shamaness who is evil, a sorceress.**

**Libisomem – A Portuguese term, not a Mapuche word, it refers to a werewolf, usually the seventh son of a family. Meyer erroneously attributed the Libisomem (which she spelled 'Libishomen') to the Mapuche as well as the Brazilians, but it's primarily a Brazilian/Portuguese legend. **

**Macana – A mace, a stick-like weapon with a bulbous end, made from stone or wood.**

**Machi – A shaman, usually a woman who mediates between the natural and spiritual worlds.**

**Machitun – The mapuche healing ritual conducted by the Machi (shamaness) consisting of diagnosis, expulsion, and spiritual revelation about the illness.**

**Mapuche – Literally translated, it means 'the people of the earth/land'. It is what the native Chileans call themselves.**

**Mapu – The land.**

**Mapudugan – The Mapuche native language, it can also refer to the 'language' of nature since the Mapuche believe that their language developed when they learned to decipher nature's messages to them.**

"**Mapu ta choyuei" – A phrase meaning 'we sprouted from the earth'.**

**Maqui – Fermented corn beer, a traditional Mapuche alcoholic beverage.**

**Ngenechen – The force of good, light, creation. **

**Ngulamtun – Traditional system of Mapuche education where the elders teach the young children the customs, morals, and beliefs of their people.**

**Pentukum – Ritualized visits by younger Mapuche to the homes of elder Mapuche in order to practice etiquette, speaking skills, and social behavior. Usually a child is sent as a messenger (werken) to a relative's home to deliver a speech of greeting.**

**Peuma – Dreams. The dream state where Mapuche believe that spirits of their ancestors can communicate with them.**

**Piams – Proverbs, wise sayings, aphorisms. All piams are related to nature, self reflection, and personal conduct.**

**Ruka – Traditional Mapuche home made of wood with a steeply pitched thatch roof.**

**Wekufu – The force of evil, destruction, and darkness. All misfortune in Mapuche life is attributed to the wekufu.**

**Werken – A family's messenger, sent as ambassador on a visit to a relative in order to accomplish a task and to practice etiquette and approved social behavior.**

**Witru – A spoon carved of wood.**


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nahuel woke in the morning to the smell of food cooking. We looked at each other curiously, until the woodsy, sweaty scent of Jacob came to us. The Cullens had visitors for their morning meal.

I threw my cloak on over my dress and tightened my sash as Nahuel used the bathroom to wash up. We'd seen bathrooms in town and knew how they worked. I'd experimented the night before with the knobs that controlled the water.

In the kitchen, Bella was trying to feed Renesme human food while Jacob used a fork to shovel food steadily into his mouth. The other Cullens stood around beaming their approval.

"Good morning, Nahuel, Huilen," Esme greeted us from her place in front of the metal box where the smells emanated.

It was a stove, but far different looking than the one that had been in Poma's old house. The Cullens' stove was all sleek metal and glass. Carlisle stood next to his wife, holding a paper sack of flour.

"Would you care to eat?"

I felt my mouth open in consternation. Alice said that the Cullen vampires only ate animal blood. Kachiri hunted with Nahuel and I three days ago. I was not yet hungry, and even if I were, would they allow me to hunt in their territory when Carlisle had warned the Vulturi not to?

I looked again and saw that Esme's question was directed at my nephew. Embarrassed, I closed my mouth.

Nahuel glanced at me then nodded hesitantly.

Jacob kicked a chair out from the table.

"Sit down," he told Nahuel. "Esme's pancakes are amazing."

Nahuel sat.

"If only Nessie thought so," sighed Bella, trying to get her daughter to open her mouth. The child finally did so, made a face, chewed and swallowed.

Nahuel tasted the strange looking flat circles after pouring a honey colored liquid called syrup over them.

"It's sweet!" he exclaimed to me. The Cullens laughed at his reaction and after a moment he smiled back at them.

Renesme began to struggle in her chair.

"Looks like that's it for breakfast," laughed Bella and set her down on the floor.

The child ran over to Jacob and grabbed his leg. Hoisting her into his lap, he took a last bite of pancake and asked, "How's my girl this morning?"

The child smiled and touched his cheek. A look of wonder came over his face.

"That good, huh?" he said.

I was aware of Edward's hands on Bella's shoulders and the stillness that came over them. It was not the usual lack of breathing and heartbeat of our kind, but a sudden pause in their happiness. Then it was gone and Alice began teasing Jacob about his appetite.

"What just happened?" muttered Nahuel, looking from Jacob to Renesme.

Alice stopped her teasing and the Cullens all exchanged searching glances.

"Bella's daughter has a gift," Carlisle said at last.

"Like Alice's gift?" Nahuel asked.

"I told him about mine," Alice admitted. She'd had to once Kachiri let it slip. Nahuel had been full of questions on the trip north.

"Something like that."

Edward moved to put his hand on his daughter's head as she pushed crumbs around Jacob's plate with the fork. "Renesme can put pictures in people's heads. She communicates by showing images."

I swallowed, and gripped the back of Nahuel's chair. Was the child a god to do such a thing? I wanted to grab Nahuel and run.

"Do you have a gift too?" Nahuel asked Edward.

I was standing behind him so I could not see his face, but there was no fear in his voice. My nephew continued to surprise me.

"You said last night that the one called Alec can cut off all the senses," he went on. "And Zafrina the Amazon can make our kind blind. What do you do?"

Edward hesitated. "I can read minds."

"Like letters on a page?" puzzled Nahuel.

"Words, thoughts, yes, but also feelings," Edward admitted reluctantly.

"Ah," Nahuel exhaled, the sound of amazed wonder in his voice.

My reaction was the opposite. I was horrified. Mapuche do not show their true selves to any but their fellow tribesmen. With Edward nothing was secret or sacred. The division between the wall mapu, the land and trees and beasts that you can touch with your fingertips, and the nag mapu, the dimension where the land, its energies and the spirits coexist, would be meaningless to him.

Could he see the workings of the wekufu inside me? We were all of the wekufu, all of us unnatural creatures of destruction, yet my own struggle to maintain a place in the balance of the world should be mine to know and not his.

I had never outright lied to my nephew, but I did not share all my thoughts with him. Would Edward tear them open?

"Want Nahuel!" Renesme exclaimed, and strained across the table, reaching out for my nephew.

"Watch out, Nessie," Jacob admonished, shoving his plate out of the way to prevent the child from scraping her chest through the sticky syrup and crumbs.

"May I?" Nahuel asked Edward.

He nodded and Jacob set Renesme on the floor. I backed away from the chair as Nahuel pushed it out from the table to accommodate the child. She climbed into his lap and touched his face.

Nahuel laughed. "You made a…balls of snow with a face?"

"A snowman," supplied Jacob.

Renesme grinned and pulled back, satisfied with the affect she'd had on Nahuel. She looked up and her gaze locked on my face. She reached out for me, her small arms extending out over Nahuel's shoulder, her eyes bright with mischief.

I took a step back, then another, and found myself running through the house to get away from her. I burst through the front door, hearing it smack against the wall as I left. I didn't come to a stop until I reached the meadow where the battle was almost fought.

I knelt down in the snow by the crevice that slashed across the meadow, not caring that my skirts were getting soaked.

I do not know how long I sat there, gazing into its depths. It was a very new crevice. Snow laden shrubs dangled from its edges, their roots torn when the earth divided. I wondered which of the vampires had done it. In a way we were all like the crevice, an open, unnatural wound on the mapu, an ugly gash where all should be balance and harmony.

Nahuel's footsteps came to a stop behind me.

"We should leave this place," I told him.

"I…don't want to go."

"They are not Mapuche," I reminded him.

"I know."

"They are not family."

"Perhaps they could be, someday."

His voice was wistful and I knew he was thinking of Renesme. More than that, he was thinking of Bella and Edward, her mother and father, the true family that had been denied to him by Joham's ruthlessness.

"They are worried about you, Aunt Huilen," he continued. "Please come back inside."

I did not want to go. I went anyway. I was losing Nahuel, not to Joham's charms, but to the Cullens.

For the rest of the day I avoided Edward. Everyone was kind to me. Their attention was suffocating. That night in Nahuel's room my nephew shared his true heart.

"I want to stay here. The Cullens invited us to stay as long as we want." He stood in the middle of the room, not looking aside as he usually did when he wished for something he knew I did not want.

"We are Mapuche. This is not our home. They are not our people."

"How can you say that? You are like them. I'm like Nessie. They can teach us so much."

"They are not Mapuche," I repeated. "They know nothing of the ad mapu."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe the ad mapu is not the only way."

I stared at Nahuel in shock. Already he was doubting the true way of things.

"What other way is there? Would you drink the blood of animals? Deny what we both know is true? We are of the wekufu. No amount of wishing can change what we are."

Nahuel's eyes clouded over. "I'm sorry Auntie. I'm sorry I bit you and changed you. I'm sorry I made you think you were cursed, but Carlisle doesn't think this is a curse. Don't you see?"

"Tell that to Pire," I muttered, and immediately felt shame wash over me as Nahuel closed his eyes as if I'd struck him.

"I know what I did to mother; I killed her. It didn't have to be that way. I didn't mean to do it. The Cullens…I don't feel so guilty when I'm with them."

He opened his eyes. "I don't blame you for hating me for what I did, but they don't hate me. I'm tired of feeling that everything is my fault. I'd like to think that I can change, be more like them. You know, happy."

I am Mapuche. In times of stress we do not show our true selves. I would not show Nahuel what his words had done to me. I'd tried so hard not to care about him, to fulfill my duty to my sister as dispassionately as possible. So why now, when I had the perfect excuse to walk away, to let him become someone else's duty, did I feel as though my heart were being shredded?

He was not happy living with me. He wanted the Cullens to be his family. I was merely a stranger who made him feel guilty, and it was all my own fault. Isn't this what I wanted when I promised Pire to care for her son?

"Enough talking. Sleep now," I ordered curtly.

For a moment Nahuel looked as if he'd argue, but years of habit are hard to break. He bit back his words and lay on the bed.

I waited until he slept, then bent over him, watching him breathe. It was the last time I would do so. I grabbed my cloak from off the floor and slipped out of the house.

Edward was waiting for me when I came out the front door. I stopped and cursed loudly in my head for his benefit. Since he could read my thoughts, he might as well know my anger.

A rueful grin crossed his face. "I deserve that for eavesdropping."

"If you know my thoughts then you know that you cannot stop me."

I gathered my cloak around me and walked off the porch.

"He'll miss you."

"I think he'll get over it quickly," I told Edward wryly. There is no sense in hiding one's emotions to one such as he. "He does not remember things as well as I do. He'll forget me."

"Memory," Edward murmured. "So that's it."

"What is?" I asked sharply, impatient to be off. Every moment I spent on Cullen land was like a knife in my side.

"Your gift."

"I have no gifts." I was wekufu. There was nothing good in me.

"You can't see it now, but you do have a gift."

He raised a hand as I opened my mouth to argue, so I let him continue uninterrupted.

"I've said all I have to say about that. It isn't why I came out here to talk to you."

"Are you going to try to make me feel less guilty too?" It felt good to let loose my emotions, to be as rude and sarcastic as I pleased.

"No," Edward replied simply. He shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands as if to prove he was unable to do so. "No one can do that but you. I came out here because I heard something in your thoughts."

I bristled but stayed silent. Edward eyed me cautiously, then continued.

"It was something that reminded me a lot of the way I thought before I met Bella. I used to think I was damned as well, or cursed as you call it."

I pressed my lips together. I was cursed, and so was he.

Edward winced at the force of my conviction, but kept talking.

"I just wanted to tell you that I've learned nothing is as simple as it seems. When I held my daughter in my arms for the first time I realized that good could come out of seemingly unredeemable situations. I've learned to hope again."

There was that word again. Hope. Nahuel had used it and now Edward was bleating it at me as well. He was a fine one to speak of hope with his wife and child in his own hut waiting for him. My hut was empty. My family was gone. Nahuel was lost to me as well.

"You can always come back, you know," Edward invited gently. "You are welcome here any time."

I cast him a look of scorn.

"I am Mapuche. I belong to the land. I will never leave it again."

I strode across the frozen grass towards the tree line. I sensed Edward standing in front of the Cullens' big house looking after me. The light changed, brightening infinitesimally. The brightness came from the side of the house where Nahuel slept.

I turned, slowly, and he was there, staring at me through the window, his hand resting on the pane of glass. The light from his room outlining him with a soft glow. I stared back at him, then turned and ran.

Nahuel's footsteps did not join mine. I was alone.

EPILOGUE:

The convent was just as I left it in 1936. The lights were now electric and the cleaning fluid residue smelled of chemicals rather than the lemon and beeswax of before, but the buildings were the same. I followed Inez's scent to a room on the ground floor in the far building.

Her bed was an ugly metal contraption instead of the wooden one she'd had all those years ago.

I did not know why I was here. Perhaps I enjoyed the pain of rejection.

The body in the bed was small and wrinkled. White hair spread out on the pillow. I broke the lock on the window and entered to stand by the bed.

Inez opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, gaze unfocussed, then glanced over and saw me. Her gaze sharpened. She recognized me. It was a relief to know she wasn't senile.

"It's you," she breathed wonderingly.

I shrugged. "You are not frightened this time," I observed.

"I'm dying," she said simply.

I knew it already. She had the same familiar uneven heartbeat of the dying and the scent of illness lingered in the room despite the cleaning fluids. Grandmother and Poma had smelled much the same before they died.

"I hoped you'd come back someday," she continued. "I always regretted sending you away the way I did."

I shrugged again. "I am wekufu, a 'demon'. You were to be a nun."

"There's more to serving God than avoiding evil," Inez said dryly. "Back then I didn't know that."

"There is nothing you could have done," I reassured her. "I became a cursed one, long before you were born."

"I've lived," Inez said slowly. "Seventy-eight years and I've come to understand that people are rarely evil through and through. You can choose to serve evil, but it does not define who you are. You can choose to serve good just as easily."

I leaned over her bed, making sure the light caught my eyes. I bared my teeth as I smiled coldly at her. "I am not a person."

Completely unimpressed, Inez smiled back. "Goodness sake child, if that's the best you can do I'd like to introduce you to two of my novices who tried to convince the Mother Superior that the East Wing was haunted."

I stepped back from the bed abruptly. This was not going the way I'd planned. I was being childish and it took an old woman to show this to me. Without Nahuel I no longer had to pretend to a wisdom I did not feel. I was no longer the elder passing on the lore of our people to the younger.

I had no purpose anymore.

"Why did you come here?" she asked curiously. Her limbs were frail, the skin of her hands age-spotted, paper-thin. Even her bones seemed hollow, like a bird's.

"You are the last of my family," I told her. I did not count Nahuel, who was now lost to me.

"Poor you," Inez said humorously. "And what will you do when I am gone?"

I hesitated. "I will return to the land." After all, it was what I always did. I understood it, and even if I could no longer hear the spirits in it, it was always there to welcome me back like a warm blanket at the end of a cold winter's day.

"And what will you do there?"

She was full of questions, this one.

"Survive."

"To what end?"

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

"Why survive? Why live on? I have no desire to live on. I've served my time on earth and I'm looking forward to where I'm going next. I know where I'm going. Do you?" Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

"You are talking of God, I see."

She laughed. "What else have I to talk of? We are in a convent after all, and you did come here to see me."

"I would have come to you wherever you lived," I said, uncomfortable with where the conversation was going.

"But I live here and you knew this."

"What do you wish from me?" I burst out.

"Nothing. I am content. I only want to know what you want from me."

"Nothing," I told her.

"Come now," she tsked. "Lying to an old woman? It's hardly respectful."

"I am over a century and a half old," I huffed.

"Then you're old enough to know better."

"Knowing what is better and doing it are two different things," I said slowly, thinking of the Cullens and their vow to never prey on humans.

"There's the rub, isn't it?" she said complacently.

"What do you know of failure, of evil?" I asked, cross now. "You're a nun."

"And I suppose that makes me superhuman?" She laughed. "We all fail in different ways but God forgives."

"He wouldn't forgive me," I told her, on sure footing now. "If your God knew all the things I've done…" Strangely, it wasn't the faces of my human victims I saw in my mind's eye, but Nahuel's face. Nahuel, the nephew I could not bring myself to love, the one I'd lost through my own stupidity.

"He already knows dear, and is more than capable of forgiving if you ask for it."

Her eyes were warm and gentle. They pierced deep within me until I felt as if she had Edward's gift.

I slipped off the edge of the bed. I did not realize I'd come to perch on it.

"I am not ready to ask such a thing," I whispered.

I backed away and her eyes grew sorrowful.

"Speak to your God of me when you see him," I called and slipped back through the window.

Her eyes were brown. Mine were red. I would return to the land of the Mapuche, but thanks to Inez I had a purpose now. When next I visited the convent, Inez would be gone, but my eyes would be gold.

Then I would seek to know more of her God. Perhaps Edward was right, perhaps there was such a thing as hope.

I turned my face toward home and ran.

THE END


End file.
